


Book 2: The Maze Witihin

by chipsNdeSalsa



Series: The Boy He Failed [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 65,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26290474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chipsNdeSalsa/pseuds/chipsNdeSalsa
Series: The Boy He Failed [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1881514
Kudos: 1





	1. Pari Passu

Tom watched from afar as the rest of his fellow students began to board the Hogwarts Express back to London, Platform 9¾, and then home. Piper had pounced on him from behind and hugged him before they too got on the train. Tom wondered who they would sit next to on the train. He hoped it wasn’t Tarquin. Though he wasn’t supposed to tell any fellow students, he knew Piper would be suspicious why he wasn’t getting on.  
Tom was still surprised he was allowed to stay on for the summer, as it would be the first time in the school’s history that it would do so. It also wasn’t long ago that Tom played an unfortunately cruel part in the duel and subsequent hazing of a fellow student, a Gryffindor boy named Tarquin Alexander D’auferio the 4th. While Tom still believed the boy deserved to feel the pain he had inflicted on other students, he did not deserve the lengths to which his group's revenge would go. If not for Tom’s creation of a new spell, one which seems to draw from the power of his wand’s phoenix feather core to heal and revive Tarquin, he likely would have been expelled and sent back home to Wool’s Orphanage. Or worse, Professor Albus Dumbledore would have stayed true to the warning he gave Tom mere hours ago and sent him to Azkaban, the wizard prison.   
But Tom was staying. He wanted Piper to stay as well but the re was a finality to how Dumbledore said every person he had invited had already said yes. And Piper wasn’t one of them. Would he have been on Albus’s list if he hadn’t nearly killed Tarquin? Tom’s thoughts spiraled as he began his walk back to Hogwarts along the long path the carriages took to and from Hogsmeade station. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was the real reason the school was staying partially open to students. Was Albus really that afraid of his regression? Did he think Tom wouldn’t be able to control his magic? Or… Was he more weary of the health of the other orphans?  
When Tom finally made it back to the grounds of Hogwarts, a few students were setting up chairs in a half circle around Professor Dumbledore as he sat in the middle and directed them while summoning more chairs and snacks for them all. Tom leaned on one of the castle’s walls, hidden by its shadow, for half a minute before Dumbledore looked in his direction and beckoned him forward. As he came closer, Tom saw that he didn’t know a single one of the students, but there were exactly 4 from each of Hogwarts 4 houses. Tom didn’t recognize any of his fellow Slytherins but knew enough to see that he was their youngest. He never caught his name, but the same black boy who made a joke about muggle soccer and Slytherin’s chances of winning the Quidditch Cup the next year was sitting with his face fusing with a dark purple tome Tom didn’t recognize. The lone Slytherin girl, one of only two from any house, was vigorously taking notes as Dumbledore looked to be explaining something he was just out of earshot to hear.  
As Tom sat down next to his housemates, he caught the end of Albus’s impromptu lecture, “…So you must also recognize that politics within the ministry itself is also a reflection of politics in the muggle world. We too are divided by ideological boundaries. If you wish to pursue the ministry path, keep that in mind, Myrra.”   
The girl, who Tom had just noticed had a shock of white hair that started at her widows peak and continued down as her hair spiraled in an intricate French braid, replied, “Oh yes, thank you Professor. My mother tells me that keeping dissent out of current diplomatic discussions with German and Italian wizarding teams.”  
After a quick wink at Tom, Albus smiled wide at everyone in the half circle and with a flick of his wands, levitated a set of 20 small glasses of lemonade to their hands and outstretched his own to say, “Welcome, all. I am pleased to see that all of you kept our secret as such. I will be piloting a new program this summer, wherein Hogwarts will be open for the summer term to those most in need. Each of you are here because either, like Myra here, your parents will be away during the summer holiday, or you do not have a suitable home to return to. This is nothing to be ashamed of. I myself am an orphan and the only family I have left is a brother, though I doubt he still thinks of me as such.”  
The group stayed quiet for a few seconds as Albus looked at them all in turn and continued, “Possibly too soon for that kind of introduction. Maybe a much lighter one is suitable. Tom, would you do the honor?”  
Tom, who was sitting upright in his chair with his thumb lightly scratching at the opposite hand, looked up as everyone turned to him, and stammered, “Hi, I’m Tom Riddle. I’m a second year Slytherin. My mum died giving birth to me.”  
To his surprise, none of the rest of the students gathered, recoiled, or even looked at him with pity. It was a test he gave a lot of adopting parents that came to Wool’s to see how they reacted. Most of them looked at him with pity, starting to cry, or were too busy arguing with their husbands or wives to even notice he was in the room. But this group didn’t flinch. Before Tom could register what he felt as disappointment or acceptance, a Hufflepuff boy with rolled up sleeves and a grey vest said, “I’m Herbert Marshall, call me Herb, and my dad died in the War. Mum sent me to live with my gran when I was 4 and I haven’t seen her since.”  
The same thing happened as with Tom. Everyone looked at the boy but none of them reacted. One by one, each of them went and explained their reason for being chosen like it was nothing. Myra Watson’s mother was never home because she was an ambassador for the Ministry of Magic. The black Slytherin boy named Winky Crockett explained that he got the nickname Blinky from the other boy’s at the muggle orphanage he grew up at because he couldn’t wink. He then tried his hardest to wink with either of his hazel eyes but, true to his nickname, he could only blink with both at the same time. A few of the people in the group, including Tom, chuckled a little bit when he started to sweat from the effort. A Gryffindor boy named Arthur Wright’s mother and father died dueling each other after the mother found him cheating on her and now he lived alone in their cottage with the help of neighbors.  
On and on their group introduced themselves until the last to go was the only other girl, a 7th year Ravenclaw girl with a cleft lip named Isobel Kelly, who said, “I ran away from home to come here. My parents didn’t want me to go to Hogwarts. Said I’d be best suited to marry our neighbor’s boy and learn to take care of the little ones. I’ve never seen my mom so mad. Not bin home since.” Isobel was the only one who had tears welling up when she sat back down in her chair.   
Albus rubbed her back a little before saying, “We all carry with us the burdens of our own truths. A shared pain; an equal pain. A pain that we know lingers, no matter how small we see it become. Which brings me to the purpose of this… camp… as the muggles call it. My hope is that, regardless of house or year, you can all come together and spend your summers having fun as a chosen family, rather than the status quo. It is what I wanted when my father, sister, and mother were taken from me as a young boy; a way to see past my pain and move forward.”  
Albus smiled a little wider as he continued, “But I am a proponent of competition as a way of forming said families and so, I have created a set of challenges for you to face in the coming months. I will divide you into groups, regardless of house, and I shall set you your first challenge with a simple hint.” Out of thin air, Tom saw as above each of their heads a small piece of parchment float down into their laps with a small wax seal holding the note together. Inside it Albus had written:  
The first challenge is to identify the properties of a given potion through any means available and named said potion. Your hint: Mithridate or Mogue?  
Group 2:  
Tom Marvolo Riddle, Second Year Slytherin  
Winky Crockett: 4th year Slytherin  
Isobel Kelly, 7th year Ravenclaw  
Oswald Friedrichson, 5th year Gryffindor

Tom looked around to look for the last member of his group, whose name he heard but didn’t really pay attention to his story, and his eyes met those of a red-haired, green eyed boy who looked at Tom with disdain. Gryffindor house had not forgiven him for playing his part in the duel with Tarquin and obviously this boy felt the same. It wasn’t a matter to Tom, he wouldn’t need any of them to win whatever prize he knew Albus had concocted. He got up as everyone formed their groups, mumbled their introductions, and sat down for Professor Dumbledore’s closing statement.  
When he saw everyone in their groups, unwilling to go beyond bare introductions, Professor Dumbledore stood up and said as he turned and began walking back inside the castle, “If you would follow me. Lodging arrangements have been changed. Not to worry, your things are quite safe inside the Great Hall.” Everyone followed the professor inside without a word. Tom wondered if now would be a good time to break off and go to his hiding place in the Room of Requirement but just as he thought he was far enough back, Albus spoke up as he opened the doors to the Great Hall, “You shall all be staying here for the summer. Comfortable futons have been placed in separate boys and girls sections. In between challenges you are free to roam the castle, study, practice your spellwork, or read in the library. Trips to Hogsmeade will not be allowed during this term, since it is only myself and the Keeper of Keys, Professor Picard, staying on for the summer. I suggest you all get comfortable. Dinner will be at 6 o’clock. Should you need assistance, you need only ask one of the ghosts to fetch me or Professor Picard. I shall see you all for the first challenge in exactly two weeks.”  
Tom looked at the cordoned off boys and girls section, saw his trunk and other possessions by the back left corner of the hall, and only stopped to drop off his robes and vest as he rolled up his sleeves and made his way to a place that he had, despite his immense thirst for magical knowledge, only been to on one occasion to look up a remedy for genital boils: the Hogwarts Library. As he entered, he found the school’s Librarian sitting on the inside of a spacious, mahogany torus desk and her face buried in an immense, ancient tome with a leather-strapped loupe attached to her left eye. Her shoulder-length dark brown hair was tied in a simple top-knot and she didn’t look up as her head bobbed left to right over the pages of the tome and she said, “Lestrange give you boils for your bollocks again, Riddle?”  
Taken aback by her language, Tom didn’t notice his school bag drift off his shoulder and thud to the ground. Immediately furious, the woman, who’s name Tom never got but somehow she knew his, snapped the book shut and looked up at him with the eyebrow over the now enlarged green eye behind the loupe raised as she exclaims, “You get ink on my floors and I’ll grow a Hudson Pear up your arse, boy!”  
Tom felt a tinge of fear as he saw the already giant green eye of hers widen even more as she looked from his bag and back to him and he hastily said, “Yes, ma’am. Sorry Professor I’ll…”  
As Tom reached down to assess the damage caused by the ink pot he knew had broken inside his bag, the librarian interrupted him, “I’m not a professor, though you can bet your pre-cactused arse I should be. But no, little miss Whitlocke has the flair and of course Dumbledore is the genius. No room in a department for a Fortescue. No sir.”  
Tom pulled out his wand and with a double flourish cast both a Syphoning Charm and Scouring Charm to clean up the mess, leaving the ink floating in mid-air as he turned out his bag to gather all the fragments of his ink pot on the floor. Unseen by him, the librarian was digging her nails into her desk until she saw him cast, “Reparo,” and the ink pot magically reformed itself perfectly. Pointing his wand without looking, Tom guided the floating ink back into the pot and watched in mild pride as none of it leaked out. The librarian, who watched the entire process, raised the loupe from her eye and lifted her eyebrow again as he put everything back into his bag.  
As Tom turned around to feign an apology for almost defacing her floors, the librarian held up her hand to stop him as she said, “No harm done. No need for a good cactus-ing. You’re one cocky prick, aren’t you Riddle? A second year with spellwork like that? That’s a first. And that’s not just me blowing smoke up your now uncactused arse.”  
Tom chuckled as he walked towards her with his hand outstretched and said, “Is that your favorite word Ms… Fortescue you said? I’m Tom Riddle.”  
The librarian smirked and shook his hand before replying, “Madame Maude Fortescue, you bet your arse it is. Vastly unappreciated word, arse. Also the most unappreciated part of the body. You can really tell a lot about a person by their arse. Look at the best Quidditch Keepers; all great arses. All the maneuvering they do, need a great arse to keep them on their brooms. Especially the Keeper for the Canons this year. Best arse in the league; only fitting for the best Keeper in the league. This is our year, mark my words.”   
Tom couldn’t help but start liking this woman as he smiled and said, “I’m sorry, I don’t follow Quidditch. Who are the Canons? I think I heard Professor Slughorn mention a team called the… Pride… or something.”  
Madame Fortescue cackled as she slid back in her wheeled chair and retorted, “Of course he’s part of the Pride, that fair-weather fan. He’d jump off the wagon of Grindelwald himself if Dumbledore didn’t scare him so much. Anyway…” She slid back to her book and was resetting the loupe over her right eye as she asked, “What can I help you with, Riddle? Here to research Albus’s little challenge?”  
Tom smiled as he moved forward and, making a point to set his bag down gently, he inquired, “As much as I like to win, I won’t cheat to do so.”  
Madame Fortescue giggled as she passed her head over a passage and said without looking up, “Didn’t ask if you wanted the answer, Riddle. But it pleases me to know you're just a killer and a miracle worker, not a cheater. Important distinction, that. Cheating killers aren’t allowed in my library.”  
The only thing keeping Tom’s heart from sinking was his still firm belief Tarquin deserved punishment. He didn’t even die either. Tom took a step back as he picked up his bag and mumbled, “I saved him, so why’s it matter?”  
Madame Fortescue, still not looking up from her tome, replied, “Because if you hadn’t created a new spell in that instance, you and that assuredly deserving of 10 Hudson Pears up the arse of a child Rodulph Lestrange would be in Azkaban for planning his murder. Great deed or not, if I were Dippet, I would have expelled you while you were still in a coma. It baffles me even more why Dumbledore has chosen you as his new pet project. At least the last one had a heart the size of an Opaleye.”  
Now Tom’s heart sank. Everyone knew what he did. And no one would just let. It. Go. Is this how Piper felt too? What if Albus was wrong to believe he could be helped? Even worse, what if Tom was right to think that going back to Wool’s would have made him even worse? Tom stood silent for a full minute before Madame Fortescue looked up and this time, pulling off the loupe strap completely and sitting up stare at him, continued in a consoling voice, “But if being in here can help you break your streak of arser-y, you’re more than welcome to peruse my selves.”  
Tom finally looked up to meet her gaze and saw her giving him a small, but genuine smile. One he knew to be a mix of pity and earnest want for him to both feel better and see how wrong he was. It was the same smile he kept seeing on both Piper and Albus’s faces whenever his duel with Tarquin was mentioned over the last 4 months of the term. He wished he hadn’t seen it. He also wished Lestrange had told him his part of the plan. Tom just wanted to prove himself to be a better wizard than some prophesied twit with an unnecessarily long name. But, now that Tom’s thought felt back in his control, he was free to wonder for a moment about why Lestrange hated Tarquin so much. What had the Gryffindor poster boy really done to make Lestrange seek him out as an ally?  
Madame Fortescue leaned forward and interrupted his thoughts with a tap on the shoulder as she said, “You in there, Riddle? Did what I say break you? Or are…”  
Tom shook his head before he looked up and mentally shrugged off the spiral of his questions about Tarquin and Rodulph as he asked, “The hint I got said Mithridate or Mogue, but I’ve never seen either of those words before. Could you point me first to a comprehensive dictionary and then the advanced potion making and ingredients section?”  
Madame Fortescue smiled again as she sat back down and responded, “I like the way you think, Riddle. Start with our copy of Oxford’s English down that…” She pointed down an alley to her east-southeast and continued, “…row. Then you can go down the stacks directly behind me. If you can’t find anything there, so long as you read it at the desk in front of me and don’t deface it in ANY way, I will allow you to examine a single book from the Restricted Section.”  
Tom easily found a recent printing of Oxford’s English Dictionary and found that a mithridate was a synonym for a kind of “cure-all”. Which narrowed down his brain’s search for answers immensely, as did his discovery that a Mogue was a scarcely used word for an act of trickery. So, Tom thought as he moved on to the section of the library where books on advanced potion-making were kept, this meant that Albus’s first challenge had to do with a potion that was similar enough to both a proposed cure-all and one that was a trick. Tom brought many books that ranged in topic from the too on the nose Advanced Potion Making by Libatius Borage to the surprisingly complex Cool Concoctions for the Curious by Fleamont Potter to a table near Madame Fortescue’s.  
For 7 hours, Tom read silently and took notes on every potion and poison that even vaguely resemble either of the hints Albus gave him. He didn’t fully understand every part of the sections he read, mostly because all of these were likely O.W.L and above, but he took rigorous notes regardless. Every so often, when his fingers and wrists began to cramp, he would take a short walk around the numerous stacks inside the library and window-shop the titles of the books on their shelves. On one such occasion, Tom halted the moment his eyes passed over and then shot back to a heavily worn copy of Nature’s Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy and knew he would have to come back to read it at some point before the start of term. Doing so during the term would be a nightmare since the library was usually filled with older students doing their homework at the last minute or otherwise misusing this valuable resource.   
Having taken a dozen pages worth of notes in those 5 hours, Tom felt comfortable enough to call it a day and go to the Great Hall for dinner before they put away the tables to make room for sleeping hours. However, after gathering his things and getting up to leave the library, he was met at the entrance by his fellow group member and Gryffindor Oswald Friedrichson. The boy’s light green eyes fixated on him with an emotion Tom couldn’t identify. Oswald waited until Tom was outside the library to push him against a stone wall with his wand pointed at his throat. In a hushed voice, Oswald grunted, “After supper. By the pitch. I’m ending this. I don’t care if you’re in my group. You’re paying for what you did to Tarquin. We duel at dusk, Riddle.”  
Oswald roughly shoved off Tom as he straightened his robes, stowed his wand, and walked up the small set of stairs to the entrance to the Great Hall. Tom felt the same rush of fury surge through his body and he fought off the urge to curse the boy while he walked away. Tom would like making an example of Oswald. If all of Gryffindor wanted to have a go, Tom would be pleased to be of service. All of them would fall and then no one would cross him again. He would have to be careful not to cause permanent damage, otherwise he knew Albus would indeed remove him from the school for good. But that was okay. He had plenty of useful spells that were just humiliating enough to be better than causing harm.   
Tom grinned as he ate his large bowl of lamb stew and dinner rolls and plotted his moves for his duel against Oswald. No doubt the Gryffindor wouldn’t come alone, the cowardly lions his entire house seemed to be. Tom laughed at the irony of this apparent sorting mistake as he ate a few pumpkin pasties before dropping off his bag and Slytherins necktie by his sleeping bag. The sun was setting as Tom left the great hall and made his way to the Quidditch Pitch. He had never seen the inside, for just like muggle sports, magical sports didn’t seem to interest him. He continued to plot for half of his walk before he stopped short of a magically lit iron torch and pulled out his wand to examine it.  
Would he have flashes of the green light in his mind if he went through with this? Or worse, would he see yet another version of himself killing another family member or someone who that version thought needed to die? Now a new spiral of uncertainty overtook him as he couldn’t shake the idea of him being hit with a flash from his nightmare and being unable to counter whatever Oswald threw at him. Only Piper and Albus knew about his nightmares and his tendency to see their endings when he cast dark magic. If Oswald were to see… No, there was no way he would know what was going on. He would only see Tom shaking and trying desperately to cast an easy spell without effect.   
Tom did his best to shake off his nightmare anxiety and continued walking towards the Quidditch pitch until he saw almost every person from every group holding torches in a circle. They all parted as Tom came closer, and Tom saw Oswald standing on the other side, wand held loosely at his side. When Tom entered the circle of torches, it closed around him and he rolled up his sleeves again and loosened unbuttoned the top two buttons of his white button down to let a pleasant breeze in to calm him down. Tom spoke first, “What happened to Tarquin was not my fault. You all know who cast the spell that sent him over. And then I healed him, completely, and you all still treated me like a monster. If I win this duel, you, and everyone else in your house leave me alone. You aren’t worth my time.”  
Oswald’s wand hand clenched and unclenched a few times before he answered, “I have no terms. It’s time someone brought you down, murderer.” Before Tom could properly react, Oswald wordlessly cast a spell with a bright white light Tom just barely ducked in time to see it shoot past his head and hit a magical barrier just a foot from his head in front of an older Hufflepuff girl. Taking note to learn that spell too, Tom rolled to his right and, focusing on Oswald’s wand hand, called on his readings from Vindictus Viridian to cast, “Scopus Morsus.” Jet of light red light zig-zagged out of Tom’s wand and hit its mark as Oswald screamed in pain and dropped his wand.   
The onlooking students behind Oswald looked down and saw a small row of teeth gnashing from Oswald’s wand and Tom used this moment to slowly advance with his wand pointed at the boy's red hair. What could he do? What did he want to do? How much did he want to destroy this boy in front of all the students Albus thought would humble Tom? Tom knew exactly what Albus was up to now. He wanted to give him people he thought would be like him. People he could confide in. But there were no people like Tom Riddle, and he was going to prove it right…  
Tom’s inner train of hate came to an abrupt halt as a dreadful cry pierced the silence of the protective dome charm, “AAAAAAAAAHH. HELP ME!”


	2. Et in Fabulam Duellum

Tom spun around in the direction of the scream for help and saw nothing. The torches of the many students surrounding him went out the moment they all lost their focus and turned around to find the source as well. Tom looked back at Oswald, who was still lying on his back and looking at Tom with mild fear, and walked over to the boy with an outstretched hand. Oswald initially looked at the hand with disgust but relented and grabbed as Tom yanked him to his feet and leaned down to pick up and give him his wand back. Tom looked down at Oswald’s other and saw a small stream of blood where the boy’s wand bit him at Tom’s command. Debating if it was worth it, Tom turned his gaze to meet the boy’s eyes and commanded, “Give me your hand, Oswald.”  
As he attempted to disobey and hold it closer to his chest, Tom lurched out and grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer to examine the wounds closer. The sun was almost fully set and thus there wasn’t enough light to see the full extent of the damage so he pointed his wand up and cast, “Lumos Mobilis,” and a small ball of light rested above both of their heads. Concentrating his mind to bring the ball down and to the right of them, Tom pulled Oswald’s wrist a little closer and saw 5 puncture points, each of which were still slowly bleeding. He didn’t see any points of onset infection so he pointed his wand again, this time at the wounds themselves, and cast, “Episkey.”  
As Tom moved his wand across the wounds, they slowly closed and left minimal scarring on the surface. Oswald winced and tried to pull his hand away as Tom worked but Tom held his wrist firmly until he was completely done and rubbed on the small scars to ensure his spellwork was complete. As he let go, Oswald looked down at his hand and back at Tom’s eyes, which he saw thanks to Tom’s ball of light to be a darker shade of green, and Tom saw a mix of confusion and gratefulness. Before turning away to go in the direction he thinks he heard the scream, Tom said, “You’re welcome. Let’s go see who that was.”  
As he commanded his ball of light to expand and center itself higher above him to show the rest of the students, he looked around the group and saw a few students missing and asked generally, “Who’s not here? I assume everyone was invited to this charade?”  
The Slytherin girl named Myra Watson stepped forward and into the light, the shock of white in her hair reflecting it back a little, and said, “I saw Blinky leaving with his Quidditch robes before supper.” Tom pointed his wand up again and created 4 more balls of light which floated above him and lit the path forward and around him as he walked toward the entrance to the Quidditch pitch.  
When he noticed no one following him, he looked to Oswald and said, “Are you coming, or not? The rest of you go get Madame Hogbin. He might be more hurt than I can manage.” No one moved for a few seconds before the 7th year ravenclaw girl named Isobel nodded her head and began running back into the castle. Everyone else but Oswald followed and Tom stood there looking at the boy until Oswald met his eyes, looked down at his hand, and then back at Tom to nod and begin following him.   
The voice began to scream and wail in pain again as they entered the pitch and Tom saw just how gigantic the pitch was on the inside. Even with the little light he conjured, he could tell that the stadium was at least 200 feet tall and as they walked towards the wailing, he saw that the goal posts themselves were 50 feet off the ground. Lying in agony far below the central hoop was the battered body of someone in the green Quidditch robes of Slytherin House. As Tom and Oswald moved closer, Tom commanded one of his light balls to hover over the body and saw Winky Crockett’s dark skin peeking out from under his robes as he lay in the fetal position, holding one of his arms close to his chest.  
Tom ran forward and Winky continued to howl in pain and Tom extinguished 3 of the balls of light so that the only two left would be on either side of him as he turned Winky on his back to assess the damage. He couldn’t see anything underneath the robes and guards Winky was wearing so he looked back at Oswald and commanded, “Come and hold him still. I need to rip his clothes and take off these bracers. It’s going to hurt him a lot.”  
Oswald hesitated for a moment before running up and getting on the other side, by Winky’s head, and put his full weight on holding the boy down as Tom went to work. Tom started by slowly unbuckling the bracer on the injured arm, which made Winky’s loud lament echo through the stadium. After setting the bracer aside, he looked for a good seam in the robes and when he found one, he tugged and tore the fabric down from the elbow to expose the boy’s bare arm. It was a sight Tom had never seen before it haunted him the moment he saw it. All of the skin below Winky’s elbow was becoming reddish in hue underneath the boy’s dark skin and the entire forearm was swelling to the size of the boy’s bicep.   
Tom looked up at Oswald and saw that he too was panicking a little and asked, “Do you know any healing spells? I don’t think Episkey will work this time.”  
Oswald shook his head and stammered, “I… I’m not sure… I’m not even good at charms. I’m better at transfiguration. I don’t…” He paused for a moment before looking from Tom’s wand to his eyes and continued, “Try that spell, the healing fire one. Try that one.”  
Tom looked down at his wand and wondered if it were possible. Would he go into a coma again or was that only a byproduct of basically bringing Tarquin back to life? One way or another, Winky’s arm needed healing, and quickly. Tom didn’t know the boy well, but he knew he didn’t want him to lose an arm. So, he stood up, softened the light of the two remaining balls, and concentrated his mind on mending Winky’s forearm. In his mind, he repeated the phrase, “I want this boy’s arm to heal,” 10 times before opening his eyes and leveling his wand at the forearm.   
Tom took a calm, deep breath and exhaled his incantation, “Dumue Alhaya.” His wand vibrated in his hand but nothing more. Tom looked down, confused, at his wand. He wanted to heal Winky. Why wouldn’t it work?   
Oswald looked confused as well as he looked up at Tom as he kept his arms locked out and held Winky to the ground and asked, “What’s wrong, Riddle? Did you say it right? Come on, Riddle, it could be an hour before Hogbin gets here. You’ve gotta help him.” Tom closed his eyes and tried to shake off the fear moving forward from the back of his mind that his casting of the Tears of Life spell was a fluke. He shook his body loose and focused his mind again as he lowered his wand again and attempted to cast the spell.  
Once again, no flames burst from the wand and Tom slumped down to kneel on the tall grass of the Quidditch Pitch. Something was blocking him from casting the spell. He truly wanted to help Winky, so why wouldn’t the spell work? Had he not recovered enough from the previous attempt? His thoughts spiraled out of control for a minute before he latched onto a single idea, something he learned why he was an orphan at Wool’s. When one of his fellow orphan’s, an older girl everyone at Wool’s called Phyllie bruised her leg quite badly and when a doctor came to examine her, one of the things they did, despite the hollering and screaming of Phyllie, was to cut open the growing bruise to reduce the swelling and allow the blood to flow freely again. Tom knew a spell that might be able to do something similar but the risk of cutting too deeply or causing permanent damage was high.  
Tom looked from Winky’s writing body to Oswald’s fearful face as he struggled to keep the former still. Tom moved closer and knelt next to Winky and pulled Winky’s head up to meet his gaze and asked, “This is going to hurt a lot and I’m going to need you to bite down on something while I do this or your teeth will sever your tongue.” Tom looked to Oswald, whose eyes were still full of fear, and said, “Give him your belt to bite down onto. If you have to, sit on him to keep him from moving. I need his arm to be as immobile as possible.”  
Oswald nodded and said, “I know a spell that might help.” He quickly took off his belt and placed the leather strap inside Winky’s clenched jaw before drawing his own wand and pointed it at the upper part of Winky’s injured arm. Taking a deep breath of his own, Oswald said with a shaky voice, “In… Incarcerous.” A thick set of vines erupted from the grass beneath Winky’s arms and wrapped themselves around until the boy’s arm was completely flat to the ground and unable to move. Tom nodded at Oswald in both surprise at the spell’s effectiveness and appreciation for the help.  
Psychically commanding one of his balls of light to float closer and brighten a little, Tom peered down at Winky’s arm to find the best place to make an incision. Most of the bruising and clotting seemed to be coming from the right side of the boy’s forearm so he re-positioned his wand to hold it like a quill and lightly touched the place he would begin. As soon as his wand touched Winky’s skin, the boy bellowed in pain but despite the rest of his body writhing and stomping on the ground, the arm didn’t move. Tom kept his wand on that spot as he looked up and nodded at Oswald once more before focusing on Winky’s arm.   
Tom took one more deep, focused breath before he whispered, “Diffindo.” Winky began to bawl and Tom could hear the boy’s teeth dig in and grind against the leather of Oswald’s belt as Tom slowly drew a cut into his arm. Blood began to flow like a broken dam out of Winky’s arm and pool on the grass beneath. Tom stopped halfway down his forearm and watched as Winky's face started to lose color and Tom began to fear he had chosen the wrong option. But after a couple minutes of the blood flowing, Tom brought the ball of light closer and saw that there was a slight reduction in the swelling of the arm and the color was becoming far darker.   
Tom kept a close eye on both Winky’s face and his forearm for a few minutes before the sound of running steps on the pitch alerted him to a smaller group of students being led by the surprisingly bounding steps of Madame Helena Hogbin. As she got to them and knelt to see Winky’s arm, the rest of the students that followed her kept their distance as she said, “Alright, Riddle. What have we got here?”  
Tom looked at her, confused that he wasn’t immediately under the microscope, but shook it off to answer her, “I think Winky broke his arm pretty bad. There was a lot of swelling under his forearm but it doesn't look like it goes past his elbow. I once…”  
Madame Hogbin averted her gaze from Winky to stare at Tom as she demanded, “Well, out with it boy. Why did you cut his arm?”  
Tom stammered in response, “I… Well… I once saw a muggle doctor reduce the bruising and swelling of one of the girls at my old orphanage by making a small cut into her leg. I thought… I thought it might work here. I don’t know of any other healing spells besides Episkey, so…”  
Madame Hogbin gave him a quick smile before pulling out her own wand and returned her focus to Winky’s arm as she said, “Well, you were half right. The boy has compartment syndrome, so just letting the blood flow out like this is a good, temporary fix but I’ll need to go a little deeper to release the pressure and make sure the tissue by the bone doesn’t go necrotic. You’re going to help me get the extra out as well, Tom, so don’t put your wand away.”  
Madame Hogbin raised her wand to point at Winky, who was grunting and heavily breathing underneath Oswald’s belt, and cast, “Stupefy,” knocking the boy out cold. Tom wished he had thought of that before as she continued his work and wordlessly cast a deeper, more precise cutting spell that Tom saw opened the area to show tendons and bone. Almost all of the students peering into the scene groaned and backed away. Oswald, who had moved away from Winky after Hogbin knocked the boy out, was about to stand up as he looked at the boy’s arm and immediately fainted face first into the tall grass.  
Hogbin giggled as she continued to cut deeper with her wand and mumbled, “It’s always the boys who can’t deal with the real blood. Tom, syphon this out for me,” pointing with her wand to some of the blood pooling in the newly widened wound instead of flowing out of the area like the rest. Tom complied and for the next few minutes, Tom knelt next to Madame Hogbin and syphoned out excess blood as she made small incisions into various parts of Winky’s forearm as he syphoned away the blood.   
Wordlessly casting a scourging spell on her hands when she finished, she looked to Tom and said, “Alright, this is going to be the tough part. Even someone as experienced as me might get this wrong.” She moved a little farther back from Winky as she pointed her wand at the wound and cast with a jab of her wand and a stern voice, “Brackium Emendo.” Tom watched as the fracture he saw began to glow with a golden light as it slid back into place and mended itself before his eyes. Madame Hogbin sighed as the glow faded and they watched the swelling and red hue immediately begin to fade from underneath the boy’s sable skin and said, “That’s a rough one. Don’t ever try that spell without me present, Tom Riddle. That spell has nasty side-effects if cast wrong. Missing bones, missing nerves, instant necrosis. Very, very, nasty spell. Now, for the blood…”  
Tom continued to watch in awe as Madame Hogbin muttered, almost sang, the incantation, “Vulnera Sanentur,” over and over for the next minute and a half. Time looked like it was reversing as the blood that had pooled and caked the grass underneath Winky’s arm and on his skin began to flow backwards and into the cuts that both he and Madame Hogbin made. Little by little, the wounds also began top close as the blood finished entering and Madame Hogbin stopped her healing song to tell Tom in a calm but pointed way, “Now, tell me one other way I could have closed those wounds and I won’t punish you for cutting open one of my students, Riddle.”  
Tom looked at her in confusion for a moment before saying the first thing that came to his mind, “Dittany. Slughorn mentioned it offhand while I was at one of his club meetings.”  
Madame Hogbin sat up and clapped him on the back twice before standing up and saying, “Good lad. Now dress that down, cut those vines off him without reopening the wounds, and wake him up. You and Oswald will carry him back to the Hospital Wing. Professor Dumbledore and Headmaster Dippet will be notified about this in the morning.” As Oswald stood up and was about to say something, Madame Hogbin held up a finger and said, “And no. I shall not mention your duel. If either of you had caused real damage besides those healed bites on your right hand, Mr. Friedrichson, Professor Dumbledore would be here as well to reprimand you both. Unlike many at this school, I am not opposed to a healthy duel. So long as the wounds are minimal and the dispute is quashed afterward. Would you say your dispute with Riddle, and vice versa, is quashed, Friedrichson?”  
Oswald looked down at Tom, who was listening but focused on cutting away the vines that held Winky’s arm to the ground, before returning his gaze to Hogbin with a nod and said, “It is now. We’re good.”  
Madame Hogbin nodded with a small smile at both of them before turning to the group of students who had been sitting and watching the entire affair unfold and said as she walked away, “Come, students. It is time for bed. Riddle and Oswald, I expect to see you in my Wing no later than sunrise tomorrow morning.”  
Oswald knelt back down to come face to face with Tom Riddle and they both gave each other a faint, but genuine smile as they worked to cover up Winky and bring him back to consciousness. After Tom conjured a set of white bandages to wrap around Winky’s arm, Oswald pitched in by both waking up the boy with an adept casting of the Revival Spell and levitated the boy’s body after Winky promptly fell back unconscious in Tom’s arms as they were getting up.  
Oswald and Tom slowly, and wordlessly walked back into the castle with Winky’s body floating between them. As Tom guided Winky’s body through the door to the Hospital Tower and up the 3 floors to the Hospital Wing, Oswald walked ahead of them and opened the doors. Madame Hogbin was sitting at her desk at the far end of the wing and gestured to an empty bed nearby for them to set him down on. When they did so, she shooed them out and they complied.  
Tom and Oswald didn’t exchange a single word as they made their way back down to the Great Hall and parted as they went to their sleeping sections, which were on opposite sides of the boy’s partition. Tom had just put on his pajamas and was getting into his sleeping bag when a floating paper aeroplane coasted from across the room and landed softly on his chest. Tom looked around and found Oswald’s sleeping bag but saw that the boy was lying motionless, facing away from Tom. He looked back down at the paper which disenchanted the moment it landed on him and unfolded into a creaseless sheet of parchment. Tom hesitated for a moment as he wondered if the boy had lied to Hogbin and did indeed want to finish their duel. Tom opened the letter anyway and saw in uneven handwriting:  
Thanks for the hand. See you at Hogbin’s at sunrise.  
Tom gave a small, genuine smile as he folded the note and put it inside his bag and promptly fell asleep on his side on the floor of the Great Hall.  
The next day, Tom woke up just as the sun began to rise and shine through the glass windows of the Great Hall and onto his face. He immediately put on a clean pair of pants and shirt, rolling up the sleeves but leaving the bottom untucked, and slipped on some shoes to leave the hall. As he got closer to the entrance, he saw that Oswald Friedrichson had already gotten up and was probably already in the hospital wing. Thinking he might have been late, Tom trotted up the steps to the Hospital Wing and swung upon its wooden double-doors to find Oswald sitting alone in a chair next to Winky’s bed. Oswald turned around with a short smile and beckoned him over with his head before returning his attention to Winky.   
Tom grabbed a chair from next to the opposite wall and sat down on the other side of Winky’s bed, who was sitting up a little in his bed with the weirdest smile Tom had ever seen. Oswald said with a chuckle, tapping on Winky’s chest, “Hogbin gave him something to dull the pain a bit ago and now he’s gone a little barmy. Go on, Blinky, start your story over.”  
Blinky slapped Tom lightly on the face with his good arm twice before beginning in a slur Tom had only seen when Mrs. Cole was especially sloshed, “Awrigh’, awrigh’ Ozzy-lad. Tawmmy-Tom-Tom, lemme tell’yuh bou’ las’ nigh’, awrigh’? So, mindin’ me own, skippin’ supper cuz I wan’uh skip me way tuh the pitch and geh a good pracky in while I’m here for summer. I’m given my imaginary goalie a good runnin, give’en em’ the ol’ Teddy Harston to and fro, yuh know? I score a few but then I yank a lefty off the righ’ pos’ and now I gotta go ge’ ih’.  
“So I zoom me way down the lef’ side but then I hear dis crack from outside the pitch and I don’ see the middle pos righ frun’. Mind…”  
Tom and Oswald both laugh in a fit for half a minute as Blinky’s eyes start to cross and uncross as he tries to get their attentions back before yelling, “RIGH’ THAT’S ENOUGH GABBIN’. Enough giraffe, havin’. Back tuh wha’ I was sayin’... So, I don’ see vuh middle pos’ and I was aw’ready reachin’ ou’ for vuh Quaff, so me arm does a benderino round the pos’ and down we go. Nevuh fel’ mo’ pain in me life, min’ I’ve rick-shade a ball off a crossy and back a’ me own dome. 12 stitches, tha’ go’ me.  
“So, I’m hollerin’ out me lungs, tryna ge’ someone tuh ge’ me help and whose tuh come and save me day than you chuckle-headed arseholes. And now I’m here, on some good stuff migh’ I say fanks to dear ol’ Hoggy-Bog-Bins, and havin’ a laugh wit’ my firs’ friends a’ this here fine establishment, Hoggy-war’y Hogwar’s.”  
Oswald and Tom couldn’t contain themselves as their laughter echoed throughout the Hospital Tower. For a few minutes, tears welled up under their eyes as they grabbed their stomachs from the pain of such strenuous clenches of their abdominals. When Madame Hogbin opened and loudly shut the door to her nearby office, they straightened themselves up and tried in vain to wipe away their tears. She walked up to Blinky’s bed next to Tom and bent over to look at the boy’s arm as she said, “Think as thieves now, are we. Good. Means you’ll be cordial with your work today. Undress the boy’s arm and I’ll show you both how to properly apply Essence of Dittany to avoid long-term scarring.”  
Tom and Oswald quickly took turns unwrapping the many layers of bandages covering Blinky’s arm before Hogbin came back with a small bottle and a dropper in her hands. She handed Tom the bottle and dropper as she pulled up a chair of her own and said as she pointed to the already scarred skin of Blinky’s arm, “Now, Riddle, you see this scarring, here, and here? Take 2 drops each, only two drops, and put them on each place where we made incisions last night. Diffindo is an easy spell to open someone up but its mark is quite lasting, even with the spell I used to close the wounds.”  
Tom obeyed and placed two drops each on four areas of scarred skin and it surprised him to see both the small fizzle of green smoke come from where the drops hit the scars and how quickly they began to vanish. When he finished, Hogbin took back the bottle and dropper and got up to set them on her desk. She then beckoned both Oswald and Tom over to a storage closet that held a large selection of sheets, white hospital gowns, and bedpans. Hogbin pointed to the last item and said pointedly to them both, “Until lunch, you’ll both be washing and shining this. Without magic, Riddle. I may not have told Professor Dumbledore about your duel, but I never said you wouldn’t have detention for dueling on school grounds. And getting caught. In my years here, we’d go sneak down to Hogsmeade to duel outside The Hog’s Head.”  
Tom knew how to shine a piece of metal until it looked brand new thanks to his many chore punishments for being suspected of messing with the other orphan’s or stealing. He still didn’t want to do it but Oswald looked even less happy as they each grabbed a few pans, a bucket, and a few rags to do their detention in the middle of the hospital wing. After a few minutes of hard scrubbing, Hogbin said from her desk, “Don’t be afraid to give it a little elbow grease, Friedrichson.”   
Blinky immediately sat up in his bed and laughed to himself as he said, “That’s it! That’s what I’ll…” and immediately fell unconscious from the initial exertion.


	3. Obscura Vera Involvens

Tom spent the next week going back and forth from the library to the Quidditch pitch to watch his new friend Blinky Crocket practice as a chaser for the Slytherin Quidditch team. Though they didn't speak much, Oswald would usually join Tom in the early morning hours to read through complex Potions and Herbology books. An adept potioneer, Oswald helped Tom understand the relationship between many of the ingredients in potions Tom had never seen or heard of before this summer challenge. Otherwise, they sat at separate tables and took their own notes in silence. No other group ever came into the library, which Tom thought was odd since this was the only place to do the proper amount of research to win the first challenge.

Tom would usually bring a book with him whenever he went to the Quidditch pitch to watch over Blinky. Madame Hogbin had given him not-so-subtle command to make sure the boy didn't break something more valuable while he practiced alone. In spite of this, Tom enjoyed seeing the boy practice. With much of the same fervor that Tom gave to his studies and spellwork practice, Blinky Crockett worked himself to the bone to try out new maneuvers. Bobbing and weaving against an imaginary goalie, he would yell obscenities Tom was sure were only ever heard and invented in London's East End.

At one point of those many days, Tom even joined Blinky down on the pitch to shoot various bludger-sized balls at him to help him with evasive maneuvers. Blinky's broom wasn't the fastest Tom had seen, but Blinky's skills and determination to win made up for it. Tom grew to admire the boy and wondered why he said that he and Oswald were his first friends. But then Tom considered that maybe they were more alike that he thought; both of them were devoted to their craft and letting anyone in, even a friend, would keep them from getting better.

After a couple practices in those two weeks, Blinky even joined Tom and Oswald in the library to look up potions. It turned out that Blinky was one of the best in the entire school, regardless of year, at knowing how ingredients mixed and what happened when you added too little or too much of any of them. Tom was blown away when, with the help of a chalkboard Madame Fortescue conjured for him to use, Blinky went into an hour long lecture on why you never want to mess up Zygmunt Budge's Laughing Potion.

"It's all about the variables, Tommy-boy. Shi' duh bed on any one, and you're halfway tuh def, you are. Take the leaves of the grea' ali-otsy tree. Le's say you fuck abou' and don' cu' doze babies up like a Mannie fan aft'uh a win at Ol' Trafford. Den you mix up the potion, like normal, but whaddya know? Instead of the normal gol' colorin', it's jus' a bi' tan. You take a swig, slosh it roun' your mouf, an' now you're in the Wing for a munf for tryin' to jump off the Astronomy Towah. Poin' bein, tha' one li'le cock-up turned the always grea' time Laughing Potion into somefing no one wants tuh see. Variaboo's. Ingredien's, vuh process. I' all ma'ers, mate. You ge' it now? An' don' even ge' me star'ed on why horseradish ma'ars wiv dis one. Oh boy."

While Oswald laughed hysterically, Tom looked up from his copious notes, in awe of just how smart a person could be in the weirdest combination of traits Tom had ever seen. None of the people Tom had met on his few trips to the East End of London were anywhere near as coherent or intelligent as this 14 year old. Granted, Tom had only been in the back alleys of the area while trying to steal food or explore, so his learned stereotype wasn't comprehensive. Nonetheless, when Tom looked up, he said, "Blink, I wish you taught Potions instead of Slughorn. Just hearing that level of expertise coming through your specific mouth is both a riot and a privilege."

Blinky laughed as he sat back down at the desk and slipped the other two fives as he said, "Well, I can' well make my cleanin' solution wiv'out knowing wha' works and wha' don', now can I? Slug-bore is jus' in it for vuh gol' and fame. I'm in it to bridge the gap, see?"

Tom set down his quill as Blink stood up again and began to pace around the room and began to rant, "See, muggoos and Squibbies ain' go' a good way to clean up wha'ever mess comes their way. When you cu' up a Mannie cunt in the back kitchen of Ol' Red, yuh need a way to get it all up. Uvawise, you've go' a Lilly pinnin' yuh agains' vuh taybow whi-owe you try tuh down the las' bi' of our pin', bony nochy to yo' plans. No muggo wan's da'. So, da's wha' I'm goin for. Avoid vuh sharp's all tuhgevah by ge'in a good clean-up."

Before Tom could interject amid their collective laughter, Blink included, Oswald spoke up, "Blink, have you really ever seen anything you've talked about? Are you telling me you've seen someone get stabbed in the back of a muggle bar and had to clean it up?"

Blink sat down again and twiddled his fingers for a moment before saying, "Look, my new mates, I didn' grow up in the orphanage li' Tommy-boy here did. Yeah, I slep' vere every now an' again. Bu' I only go' tuh grow up because I go' in wiv a darker crowd. These boys were die-hard suppor'ers of Liverpoo' an' when a Mannie came in for a pin', sometimes he lef' wiv a new smile instead. So yeah, I've seen i'. Never done it, mind. Bu' these eyes have seen an ocean of blood," pointing to his eyes at the end, which were welling up a little before he shook his head and got up to leave.

Tom didn't find a moment to talk to Blink again for a few days after that. Even when Tom helped him practice evading Bludgers, Blink never answered. It wasn't until Albus announced that the next day would be the first challenge that Blink came up to both Oswald and Tom the night before the challenge and said, "Ride my coat-tay-owes tomorruh all yuh li', bu' I ain' drinkin' nuffin if we can' figgur i' ou', go' it?" And without another word he went to his sleeping bag and fell straight to sleep. Tom did his best to contain his curiosity, knowing that despite how ahead he was for his age, he would likely be out of his depth with this challenge. He was great at making potions, but he didn't spend as much time on the nuances of ingredients and processes as he had with his spellwork.

The next day, Tom ate a hearty breakfast of eggs, sausage, and 2 apples before meeting his group in the Entrance Hall. Though he only saw her once during the first two weeks at his and Oswald's duel, the 7th year Ravenclaw named Isobel Kelly proved to be a valuable member of the team as well, owing to her being a NEWT student in potions, and gave them their best foot forward when she said, "It doesn't matter what the potion is, or how much any of us have studied. Dumbledore will have chosen something so out of our realm that it will come down to how we adapt. Tom, you've got intuition out the arse. Blinky's a walking laboratory experiment from what I heard from Slughorn last year, I don't know you, Oswald, but you've been around these two for long enough to keep up or Tom wouldn't have kept you around, and I got an Outstanding on my OWL for potions. We've got this."

Tom was glad the event was taking place outside because this was one of the few days of their break so far where there wasn't a cloud in sight and a cool breeze was wafting up from the lake to stave off the heat. A perfect day. Tom and his group joined the rest of the students staying at Hogwarts for the summer as they all followed Professor Dumbledore down to a set of tables filled with potion supplies Tom recognized as being taken directly from Slughorn's classroom. Tom led his group to a table near the back and they all waited as both Madame Hogbin and Professor Picard took their seats as spectators for the event and Albus stood up to speak. Smiling at each of the groups, he began, "I am surprised none of you thought to bring with you a book on potions. They would not have helped, but there is one among you who may learn or both possibilities for today's challenge this year, as both are usually part of the NEWT examination. Why then, would a Professor such as myself assign a potion such a task if only one of you has the hope to complete it?"

When no one answered, Isobel Kelly stood from her stool behind their table and shouted loud enough for everyone to hear, "Because not even you know which of us have the miracle, and which of us has the trick. It is up to us to decide and test them, regardless of our prowess as potioneers."

Albus clapped his hands twice and chuckled as he replied, "Yes. Yes, my dear. It is always nice to see our hat make the perfect sorting. You are correct. While I did pick which two potion possibilities you would face, I left it up to Madame Hogbin here, who herself has randomly sorted each vial so as to make them utterly indistinguishable from one another. If you would please, Helena."

Madame Hogbin stood with her arms raised like a conductor and waved them both twice in a wide wave and with a slight shimmer, each of the groups tables revealed themselves to already have a single, glass vial with a perfectly identical, shimmering, light blue liquid inside them. Before Dumbledore could continue, Tom quickly looked with squinted eyes at every group's vial to see if there was even a single difference in hue or consistency but could see none. He wasn't the only one and he saw as one Ravenclaw boy whose name Tom didn't remember even took his own vial and grabbed the one for the group behind him and held them both up to the light as if that would help. Unsatisfied, the boy handed the vial back to the miffed group and sat back down in his stool with a quizzical look at Dumbledore.

The Professor smiled even wider and said, "I see I have chosen my examples wisely. These two possibilities are so identical that only with a spell of my own invention can I even tell the difference. That it is not to say you won't be able to find some semblance of a difference through complex derivations and reductions of the vial, but the task is an arduous one. Your hint stays the same: Mithridate, or Mogue. You have until…" Albus pulled a golden pocket watch from his long, iridescent purple and silver robes and continued, "... 4'oclock in the afternoon. A small break for lunch will be provided at 1'oclock, should you wish to partake. You may begin." Tom fought every instinct to immediately begin breaking down the potion but both Isobel and Blink stopped him with their hands out over it and Isobel said, "I've only seen a liquid this shiny once but if the opposite of this is the Mogue, but they look alike, we're all hosed. Blink do you…" As she turned to look at him, Blink was already standing in front of their groups table with his hand raised and his eyes beaming at Madame Hogbin, who obliged and came over to their group. When she took a seat on a spare stool, Blink asked, "Are we allowed to leave our stations to investigate further or are we confined to our workspaces?"

Madame Hogbin responded with a small smile and said, "Unfortunately, Mr. Crockett, as it is my job to ensure there are no mishaps, you may not. Should you require a textbook or notes of your own, I will summon them to your table."

Blink nodded along and then asked, "I would li', specifically, my copies of One Fowsand Herbs and Fungi, Mos' Po'ente Potions, and Vee Vindictive Volumes of Vindictus Viridian, if you would. And me gloves. I need me gloves."

Madame Hogbin stood up, and wordlessly flourished her wand in a wide arc. For nearly a minute, nothing happened. But then a whooshing sound accompanied an assortment of books Tom saw to be heavily weathered and used, as well an equally worn pair of dragon-hide gloves, each with just the point and thumb finger ends missing. The reason for their absence became evident to Tom as he saw Blink cackle and smile evilly as he put them on and used his fore and thumb fingers on his right hand to flip through the pages of Moste Potente Potions until he came to a topic titled 'Obscure Ingredients'. Without another word, Madame Hogbin left them to their work as a few other groups used her as well to summon their various potions supplies, different ingredients, and much lighter used gloves than Blink's.

After skimming through a few pages faster than Tom could keep up with, Blink looked up at Isobel and said, "I's def wha' you're finking, luv. We migh' have be'uh luck ge'in in tuh ve Buck House now."

Isobel giggled and looked to Tom and Oswald and said, "And you two have understood him this whole time? Mind translating? I feel like my brain just exploded."

Oswald chuckled as well and said, "You'll get used to it. I don't understand the reference Buck House, but I'm guessing it means we're done for. What do you two know that we don't?"

Before Isobel could answer, Blink cut in and said, "I's vuh damned happy potion. Peace and wha'no'. Tha's go'a be vuh mif-row-da'e, or wha'ever Dumb-boo-dore said."

Isobel nodded and said, "The is a bastard of a thing. I don't even think I could make one if I had my books with me, let alone do it correctly. For Albus to have made these, even if some of them are the trick, is a feat all its own. The only question is how many are Euphoria and how many are the trick? Or if any… Wait…"

Isobel didn't bother to raise her hand and raised her voice loud enough for everyone, specifically Professor Dumbledore, to notice and said, "Professor, if I make a guess at your process, will you say yes or no? That is all I need."

Albus stood up and said with a wide, closed mouth grin just barely visible under his beard, "Most certainly, Ms. Kelly."

Isobel leaned with both hands on the table as she asked a question that marveled Tom, "Did you make equal numbers for both the miracle potion and the trick, then tell Madame Hogbin to cast a spell to randomly sort them into two groups, regardless of their contents. Making it just as likely that all of them are either trick, miracle, or a mixture of the two with varying proportions?"

Albus's smile widened even more and said, "And now I recall you as being the chief reason for Ravenclaw's winning the House Cup not long ago. If I could assign points at this moment, I would give you 200 for that astute assumption. Yes. You are precisely right, Ms. Kelly. I made equal portions of each possibility, miracle and trick, as you say, then instructed our dear school nurse to randomly sort them, with no knowledge of her own which was which before or after. Very astute indeed."

Isobel blushed a little as a few students, including Tom and Oswald, Blink being too absorbed in his copy of One Thousand Herbs and Fungi, clapped for half a minute before everyone returned to their work and Isobel retook her seat. Tom wondered just how quickly she had come up with that observation or if she had been working on possible strategies in the two weeks of preparation time they were given. Either way, he was impressed. Tom personally believed that Dumbledore himself was lying about his knowledge of the vial's contents before Isobel asked but, in the way Albus answered, Tom knew he was wrong and Isobel had indeed made the right assumption. Now he needed to prove his mettle by finding what the 'trick' could be.

Since Blink and Oswald were both now combing through One Thousand Herbs and muttering to each other, and Isobel had cracked open Blink's copy of Moste Potente Potions, Tom picked up Vindictus Viridian's Vindictive Volumes. With a cracked red and black leather binding, the tome was larger than all of Tom's first year books and larger still than most of the books he had seen in the library. And its contents were the first thing to surprise Tom. Too true to its name, Viridian's book was filled with wretched potions Tom could never even dream of creating on his own, and he was only 3 pages into the introduction.

For an hour or so, Tom skimmed back and forth from the table of contents and various sections and truly horrible concoctions. Potions like one which induces slow necrosis of just the left-hand's finger nails, turning one's leg hair into parasitic larvae, and a particularly vile poison which forces the taker to shed all of their skin in large, painful flakes both disgusted and intrigued Tom as he flipped through the volume. On no occasion did he find anything with visual features resembling the vial in front of him. When he looked up for the first time in an hour, he saw that one group was already trying to replicate the color and shimmer of their vial, to no avail. Another group was arguing about someone just taking it and then describing what they felt. Tom thought it would be a great laugh but also knew that while he doubted Albus would give them anything deadly, he knew that he also wouldn't have assigned Madame Hogbin to watch over them if it wasn't dangerous.

While he continued to read through Viridian's book, and grimace as he read through the description of the abhorrent Hand Switching Potion, which painfully transfigured the taker's hands into the opposite hands, shifting every finger around until they were all both backward facing and reversed with the thumbs on the outside, Isobel, Blink, and Oswald were in a hushed debate over what other light blue liquids could have been the Mogue of Professor Dumbledore's hint.

"Nah, Blink it isn't just Giggle Water, that's too basic for Dumbledore."

"I ge' i' bruv, bu' you go'a admi', i's a righ' laugh when a ma'e cack-oos li' a banshee. Tha's a grea' trick if I knew one."

"What about Felix Felicis, Isobel, isn't that silver or something?"

"I'm afraid not; if brewed right, it's molten gold. If it's any other color, it causes massively bad luck. How about a Potion of Invisibility? Mine was definitely silver when I made it last year. Oh, wait, the Draught of Peace only has a silver vapor. Dammit. We need a turquoise looking potion."

"Guv, tha's a thaw'. But where's the Mogue? Where's the trick?"

"Well, that is the trick. You turn invisible and can play tricks on people. Imagine starting a snowball fight on the grounds by throwing one at someone while you're invisible."

"I'm sorry, Isobel, I still think that that's too basic. I don't think Dumbledore would think of that as a trick. More a means."

As they continued their debate for another half-hour, and other groups tried and failed to deduce the ingredients to whatever their vial was, Tom only had to read the Meandering Potion's title to turn the page to something that immediately caught his eye. In big, bold letters at the top of the page was the title of the next potion in the alphabetical order for Mind Altering Mixtures: The Mind Fracturing Philter. He read all of the ingredients but fixated on just the potions eerily similar description. He didn't even have to think about it twice to connect a series of theoretical dots and think, "Piece". The Mogue wasn't a trick itself. The trick was a play on words.

He immediately stood off of his stool, placed the feather to his quill inside the page he was on, and yanked all 3 of his teammates closer to him. When they all scooted their stools closer, Tom looked up and saw that every other group wasn't paying attention to them and whispered to his group, "What do you think of when I say 'piece (peace)'?"

Isobel and Blink both said their answers at the same time:

"Impossi-boo"

"Apart"

Tom pointed to both of them and said, "Exactly."

Blink was the first to say, "You off the cliffs, Tommy-boy? Ozzy-lad, do you get it?"

Oswald wasn't listening as he pulled Viridian's vile tome into their makeshift huddle and opened to Tom's quill-marked page and his eyes widened as he read out the visual description for the potion in a hushed voice, "Not unlike the much less useful Draught of Peace, the Mind Fracturing Philter is turquoise in color with a most devastating effect: it forces the conscious mind to believe there is more than one inner voice. With careful preparation, no lasting damage is done to the mind and the effects of said splitting of the consciousness wears off in 2 hours."

Both Blink and Isobel clap Tom on the shoulder and Blink says, "Well done, Tommy-boy. Knew tha' book would come in handy. Viridian was a righ' prick when he taugh' here. Even when he was Head, he found a way to experimen' on kids. How'd you fin' vat one, ma'e?"

Tom, smiling from ear to ear, said as he grabbed the book from Oswald and skimmed to find even the most subtle difference in physical description between the two possible potions, said, "I was just skimming through this section by the alphabet. Pure luck. Get out the description for the Draught of Peace and let's compare their descriptions and fail states. I want to see just how similar these are before we decide what to do next."

Isobel read the description for the draught and Tom wrote down the notes and then copied the description for the Mind Fracturing Philter word for word on the same page after drawing a line straight down the middle so he could compare them side-by-side. When he set the parchment down, everyone else in his group huddled over his shoulder as he went down the line of each side and found only one, the most subtle of subtle differences: taste. Someone in his group would have to ingest the potion. This was the real test. They would only know if this potion would bring them into an altered state of piece or force their brains illusorily fracture if they tasted the potion. Every other description, from the vapors (silver in hue), to viscosity (thick but not slimy), even to how it dilutes into water (it doesn't) were the exact same.

Blinky was the first to speak after they all silently pondered on the same inner conclusion, "Righ', well, I'm no' abou' tuh frack-chuh me own dome jus' so we can win vis fing, righ? Min', I've done dumber fings wif me mind and alterin' substances. Bu' vis, vis is no' up me alley, a' ole."

Oswald took his turn next, "Look, it has to be something else. I get the word play, but this is rough. Even for someone was cunning and genius as Dumbledore. Do you really think he'd brew 5 of these? I mean, where would we even find this… this… Lichoribelle Lichen? I've never even heard of it. None of these ingredients are even in Slughorn's stores."

Tom wondered for a moment before he caught Dumbledore's eye and beckoned him over with a quick, backward jerk of his head to avoid detection. When Albus joined them with a stool of his own, he preempted Tom's first thought by saying, "I will not answer exact questions regarding ingredients, process, or times of making. What may I help you with, Tom?"

Tom looked deep into Albus's electric blue, piercing eyes, searching for anything that might hint to a lie as he asked, "Albus, did you collect all the ingredients from school grounds, including the Dark Forest and excluding Hogsmeade?"

Albus made the exact mistake Tom was hoping for and just barely raised his left eyebrow as he answered, "Most ingredients were procured outside of this school. I shall say no more." Without another word, Tom assumed Albus knew he tipped his hand and Tom turned back to the group and said as Albus walked away, "I bet you anything that mushroom grows in the Heart of the Forest."

Oswald and Isobel both said at the same time, "Why are you and Dumbledore on a first-name basis?"

Blink, however, countered, "Tha's the wrong question, Ozzy-lad and Izzy-belle. The be'ar question is 'ow a fir's year knows abou' ve 'Art."

Tom looked at his group, wondering if trust was something they, and he in turn, had earned yet. They'd only known each other for two weeks and Isobel was just now becoming part of their group after being absent for the majority of it. Tom decided for a half measure to test their newfound acquaintanceship and answered, "Albus delivered my letter to me and a friend told me about the centaurs of the forest before Christmas vacation."

Blink seemed to catch Tom's hesitance as he raised both eyebrows but only said, "I guess tha'll do for now. Min', I did wrench open me hear' and show yuh me innards like a pig bein' broug' in a good smoke af'uh a good win for vuh Reds. Bu' 'ey, trus' no', wan' no', Tommy-boy. Now, 'oo's gonna give'r a good, slaggy swig an' spit? No offense mean' Izzy-belle."

Isobel smirked as she clocked Blink's shoulder hard and said, "Then don't say the word, you daft tosser."

Blink smiled in return and Tom could see a similar shine in his eyes as the look Piper gave Tarquin when she visited Tom in the Hospital Wing post-duel. Letting the moment pass, Tom said, "How about we draw lots? That way none of us have to be the hero or lose their minds over nothing. Albus wouldn't have given us something irreversible but I'm guessing all of us have demons we'd rather not deal with right now."

Isobel nodded and with a quick, wordless conjuration spell, 4 sticks of equal length appeared in her hand and she took one and snapped off the end to make it shorter than the rest. She then mixed them up in her hands behind her back and brought them forward, held by just her fingers to make sure she wasn't able to tell their length either. When everyone made a grab for their chosen lot, Blink counted them down, "Free, two, one, grab."

Each of them pulled their sticks and held them close until one by one they each laid them out on the table next to their unused cauldron and potions supplies. Tom saw he had drawn the smallest stick and he smiled as he said, "Well, either I finally feel good or my mind breaks and I go crazy for an hour. Bottom's up."

Tom took the vial out of the metal ring it had been resting in for 2 hours and downed the entire thing in one gulp, forgetting Blink's vulgar joke about spitting it out. And then, only a few seconds after he felt it slide down his throat with the faintest taste of maple syrup, Tom felt something he could not describe, for he had never felt anything like it in all his years of life.


	4. Ex Speculo Veritatis

A peace Tom had never known engulfed him like a hug from a mother he never met. The underlying fear of seeing himself become what he saw in his nightmares melted away and all that was left was… calm. As he looked at each of his fellow teammates, his friends, he felt a serenity he could not describe. He didn't want to describe, even. Why attempt the impossible when the here… the now… was just fine? Did they really have to win this competition or could he just stay here, feel the a-maze-ing breeze coming up from the Black Lake and cooling away his sweat?

Oswald was the first to notice Tom's change in mental state, which was evident by the oddly lax smile on his face and his eyes barely being open as he swayed in place on his stool, and he said to Tom, "How many are you, Riddle? Did your mind break or was it the peace draught?"

Tom simply smiled at Oswald as he poked the boy's nose and said, "If you can get some of this too, man, that would be aces, Ozzy. Oh, man, I wish Piper were here. They'd love this too. Can you go get Piper for me?"

Blink was the next to laugh and say, "One of ve boys 'oo came back from France used tuh ge' like vis when he go' a good sho' o' more-feen. I fink 'e go' vuh peace draught. We won."

Isobel leaned in to say to Tom, "I'm glad you didn't have to experience the fracture, Riddle. Well done. So, what did it taste like? So we can explain it in our answer?"

Tom leaned forward too, his lips mere centimeters from Isobel's as he thought about it and said, "You have great eyes, Isobel. Ahem, I think it was like, syrup. Like, for pancakes. I could use some pancakes. Blink, hey…" He looked at Blink, who was gripping his stool in a quickly failing attempt to hold himself back, and asked, "While Ozzy-boy's getting Pipe, can you bring us some pancakes? Oooh, and those sausages from breakfast this morning. Man, Blink you're just… aces." Tom nearly fell backwards off his stool as he leaned back and Isobel jotted down their group's answer onto a piece of parchment.

She held the parchment with their answer high enough for every group and specifically Professor Dumbledore to see, who came over and, seeing Tom's current state, smiled and asked, "I assume you have your answer, Ms. Kelly?"

Isobel nodded and said, "Our vial contained the Draught of Peace, as opposed to the Mind Fracturing Philter, which is nearly identical in every physically and chemically discernible way except one thing: taste. While the Mind Fracturing Philter has a distinct nutty and bitter aftertaste, the Draught of Peace has a faint forward taste of maple syrup. Thus, our vial contained the Draught of Peace."

While Albus called over Madame Hogbin to judge their answer, almost everyone held onto their stools with bated breath. Tom, however, leaned a little forward on his stool and gently grabbed at Albus's beard and began to rub his face in it as he dreamily said, "Oh, Albus. I wish my pillows were made of your hair. How do you keep it so soft?"

Blink and Oswald both covered their faces in shame and the former said, "Awe, ma'e, you're ruinin' our win. Now ver' jus' gonna remembuh you moanin' ovuh an ol' man's beard."

Albus gently took back his beard with a small chuckle and Madame Hogbin said as she joined then, "Ah, I see the boy took the plunge. It has been a while since I've seen a child take the Draught of Peace. Yes, indeed, Ms. Isobel, your group is correct. As was your distinction between the only known method of discerning it from Viridian's Mind Fracturing Philter. Albus, would you care to dispel young Mr. Riddle? I think that is quite enough loopyness for one child."

As Albus waved his wand and Tom felt a sudden retraction from himself and his eyes opened completely to see the world in the same way he had before taking the Draught, Albus said, "Whilst Professor Viridian taught at this school, he cultivated a rare species of fungus from the bark found in a tree near the Heart of the Forest. It is the key ingredient in his draft that induces an illusory separation of the mind into two pieces. I thought it a clever play on words, as you all no doubt concluded."

Isobel blushed a little but straightened her back as she said, "It was actually Tom who made the deduction before taking the draft himself. He found it in Winky's copy of one of Viridian's tomes."

Albus looked down at the massive text and said, "So I see. And how did you come by this book, Mr. Crockett? I must say, I thought I had every copy confined in the restricted section or otherwise burned to cinders."

Blink smirked and said, "My secre's are me own, awe due respec' Professuh. Min', tha' book cos' me my entiyuh earnin's from scrubbin' dishes a' Ol' Red las' year. Speakin' o' which, Professuh, min' if I grab an ear aftuh you give us our reward and some such?"

Tom saw as Albus gave Blink a knowing look and said, "Yes, I do think that can be arranged Mr. Crockett. Come to my office after supper and we shall discuss your matters… Now… I do believe it would be a good time to stop the challenge or a student may very well need my assistance in re-arranging their brains."

Albus walked back to the front many desks and congratulated Isobel Kelly and her team on their relatively quick solution of his first challenge for the summer term. After awarding them with 3 points for solving their own part of the challenge and an additional 2 points for solving the entire riddle of Mithridate or Mogue, he bid everyone a good night and wished them a pleasant rest of the week before he would bring them back together to discuss the next challenge and review how this summer term has gone so far.

Tom was the first to get up and walk over to Albus as everyone gathered their things, a few sulking from their defeat, one mumbling about how it was unfair that only Tom's group got points. When he finally weaved his way through the desks and stools, he said, "Albus, why did you end the potion so soon? I…" He stopped short and saw a few of the students nearby looking at him and whispering amongst themselves before continuing in a hushed voice, "... I have never, not even during my best days spent with Piper, felt like that. Why did you take that away from me?"

Albus, who was previously standing and wordlessly waving his wand to vanish the desks and potions supplies, sat back down in the edge of a stool of his own and said in a calm voice and a slight smile, "Sometimes, Tom, the Draught of Peace creates a lasting want for the mind to experience its effects again. And again. And again. Much like the soldiers who came home from fighting in France and Northern Africa not long ago, even a wizard can become… addicted… to such feelings. It is not a fate I wished to see upon you, so I ended them myself to avoid such a prolonged exposure to the Draught. May I ask…" He leaned his face forward to peer at Tom over his glasses and Tom knew it was his way of ensuring he could see Tom lie if he tried as he continued, "Do you feel such a need? Has the Draught left its mark?"

Tom backed away a little, puzzled but relented as he searched his own mind for such an odd thing, and finding nothing, said, "No. I… It's more like a memory. I don't want it, at least not in the way you describe. I do…" Tom felt how dry his mouth was becoming and he had a new urge to eat the darkest chocolate he could find. As if having read Tom's mind, Albus waved his wand and a small bowl of dark chocolate morsels appeared in his hand. After taking a few for himself, he said to Tom as he handed it to him, "Here, have some chocolate, Tom. I don't think a few before supper will ruin your appetite. I myself have been under the effects of the Draught of Peace and I still remember just how much I wanted to eat chocolate afterwards. I think the Draught has similar magically draining effects as physically draining spells, such as your… Tears of Life I think we deduced… But I have yet to study it for myself. It is a difficult potion to study, as I am sure you now realize." Tom nodded as he took a few bites of the morsels and began to feel better. He said goodbye to Albus who gave him a quick reassuring grasp on his right shoulder before leaving and Tom joined his group for a joyous celebration for their victory in the first of Dumbledore's challenges for the summer term.

Over the next few days, Tom genuinely enjoyed the company of his new friends. Isobel was a welcome member to their group and was quite good at doing impressions of Tom from when he was high on the Draught of Peace. Tom snorted out half of the pumpkin juice he was drinking when she began to cross and move her eyes independently of each other while swaying back and forth on the benches of the Great Hall while reciting the proper wand formations to cast the Bandaging Charm. Blink showcased a few prototypes for his miracle cleaning solution he was now calling 'Elbow Grease' after hearing Madame Hogbin use the phrase before he passed out from exhaustion. Much to the chagrin of Professor Picard, who was passing their group as she walked by to join the professor's table for lunch, Tom helped him demonstrate the various concoctions effectiveness by casting, "Ectomatic," and a green and yellow ectoplasm appeared on the wooden table in front of them all.

After letting it roam around for a little to make as much a mess as possible, Blink dipped a separate wooden brush into each solution and began to slowly follow the ectoplasm's trail with both brushes and Tom watched one lit the ectoplasm on fire and the other began to not only melt away the ectoplasm but also eat away at both Blink's hands and the table underneath him. Tom reacted quickly by casting multiple scouring charms until the entire mess was cleaned and the only damage left was to Blinky's now beet red hand and a table with a noticeable section rotted away. While Oswald was getting up to take Blink back up the hospital wing for the third time in as many days, Tom saw a cloud of purple smoke encompass the table and whirled around to see Madame Fortescue trying and failing to look conspicuous as she attempted to use her wand to eat her stew. When Tom got up to follow Isobel out to catch up with Oswald, he nodded with a smile to the librarian who winked and then actually succeeded at using her wand to eat her stew by mixing a Syphoning Charm with a Bubble Charm that made Tom laugh as he left the Great Hall.

Tom had been spending so much time with his, as Dumbledore put it at the beginning of this summer event, chosen family, that he had not been to the Room of Requirement in almost 3 weeks. After a brief, more amicable duel with Oswald, wherein Tom handily won with a single casting of, "Ebublio", Tom left them as they went to eat supper the night before Dumbledore's promised explanation for his second challenge and slowly made his way up to the 7th floor. When he got to the Grand Staircase, he was struck by the image of Tarquin's body as it floated up to him on No Man's Case. His head caved him from the impact on a floating staircase below. His hair and body covered in scorch marks and Dungbombs. It haunted Tom so much that he almost stepped off the edge of a staircase he had been floating on and nearly forgot the pattern.

After a minute of shaking the imagery out of his head and remapping the staircase's patterns, Tom exited onto the 7th floor corridor with a small hop and did his best to leave the thought of Tarquin behind. The door to the Room of Requirement appeared before him as he passed by the hallway for the second time but when Tom entered, it was not the room he knew. It was dark, pitch dark, and light didn't appear until the door closed by itself behind him. Even though there were no windows of any kind in the room, and no candles were lit, the massive room looked like it was bathed in sunlight. Tom looked in awe as he saw tall shadows facing to the right extend from huge towers of seemingly random objects. Bookshelves, furniture, weird trinkets, heaps of tarnished jewelry, and an entire section of lawn gnomes that Tom wasn't completely convinced stayed still when he looked away all caught his attention as he began to work his way around the room.

Tom knew from Albus's and Professor Dippet's descriptions of their own experiences with the magical room that it changed shape according to the needs of the user. But this… all of this… junk… meant hundreds, if not thousands, of students had laid their possessions to rest in this room. Past professors left rotting school desks and cracked cauldrons. Tom even found board filled with fraying, faded love letters, the last of which, at least from what he could find, was posted to the wall only 5 years ago and it said:

Dearest Cor,

We're graduating today and I was never able to tell you how I felt. We found this board together and promised that one day, we would post one here together for whatever boy we fawned over. But I never found one. I found you. In our 5th year, you wowed everyone by conjuring me a bouquet of orchids during our OWLs. In our 2nd year you carried me on your back after I broke my ankle in the Quidditch final against Ravenclaw. When you were told you couldn't go to Hogsmeade because your mother was too weak to sign your permission slip, we snuck there anyway through that passage I found and we laid out in the snow for hours, just holding hands and talking. In our 6th year, you helped me realize my true potential as a writer and help me get my internship with Challenges in Charms. I've loved you since our first year but the thought of telling you and dooming us both to ridicule in this horrid, backward world kills me inside. And so, I leave this here. I will love you always.

Your Cuddly Claire-Bear.

Tom searched around for a response but this was indeed the newest letter added to the board. Tom thought he recognized the handwriting, but… it couldn't be… Tom wondered for a while if he was right as he continued to explore this new, yet definitely ancient room until he saw a large corner of the room that was left barren except for a single, thin object cloaked in a peach-colored velvet fabric. Tom's curiosity peaked as he stepped forward cautiously, weary of how dangerous the only object in an entire room of junk could be. He peeked under the fabric for just a moment before letting it go to make sure nothing would lurch out at him. After a few seconds of pondering, Tom lifted the covering a little more and saw that it was ornate, ancient, and had a golden frame.

Tom gave in and pulled the velvet off completely to reveal a tall, antique mirror with a frame and spires of gold. But it didn't look like an ordinary mirror. When Tom looked at what should have been his own reflection, instead he saw a woman with long dark hair holding a baby in her arms as she rocked back and forth in a chair. But as Tom moved closer, he saw the woman had no face and he recoiled backwards and into a tower of junk that he was immediately afraid would fall over. When he looked back, he saw that the mirror was now reflecting the rest of the room, as if it was again a normal mirror. Maybe it was just a trick of the light. It had to have been.

But as Tom again stepped forward to find his own reflection, he only found the same woman, rocking slowly back and forth with a baby in her arms. Tom continued to watch for a few seconds until he saw, appearing from nowhere on the right, a man Tom knew walked into the image and sat next to her in a chair of his own with a book in hand. Tom saw that the man had the same, wavy black hair as his own. The same dark green eyes and jawline. Tom saw a younger version of his own father sitting next to a woman, who he now instinctively knew to be his mother, as she rocked a baby Tom Riddle in her arms as he slept.

Tom fell to his knees and continued to watch as the man opened the book and inaudibly began to read whatever was in the book aloud and the faceless woman rested her head against his shoulder and brought the baby up a little closer. His father smiled down at baby Tom Riddle as he looked back and forth from him to the book. After a minute or so, the mirror cleared itself with a smoky wipe and the scene restarted.

Tom watched that scene 4 times as he sat on the floor of this version of the Room of Requirement and felt his heart pound in his chest. He fought back tears as he saw something he had wanted every day as a young orphan, before he came into his powers and became callous. But it dawned on him why he couldn't see his mother's face: he had simply never seen it. He could only see Tom Riddle Senior's face because he had seen it in a nightmare. But this brought on even more questions as he thought about what he would have seen had he never had the nightmares. If he never watched an older version of himself kill the man with the Killing Curse.

As his mind became an endless maelstrom of uncertainty and questions, Tom knew he had to get out of the room but as soon as he stood up and turned around, he saw, sitting in a chair, barely big enough to hold him, was Albus Dumbledore. The professor had only walked by a minute before and when he saw Tom sitting in front of the mirror, he quietly looked around and sat down in the closest chair he could find. When Tom saw him, he felt a pang of guilt and looked back and forth from Albus to the mirror before Albus held his hand up and said, "I doubt you would apologize, but even if you did, there would be no need. I myself was surprised you didn't find this… variation… of the room before finding its other purposes first. Indeed, this room is a marvel all its own. To find it in this state mostly happens by accident the first time. It was how I found this mirror, just like you have, when I first came to Hogwarts. Though, I did not find it as quickly as you have. No doubt you have many questions, Tom. By all means, ask them."

Tom didn't want to stay in this room with Albus but he also knew that to leave would only prolong the inevitable. So, he too grabbed a chair, a tall brass throne with red cushions and an abused looking Gryffindor Lion stitching that barely resembled what it likely looked like when it was first made, and sat across from Albus. Tom didn't look into the man's eyes for a while, vigilant to its uneasy effect on him, but after a couple minutes of silence, which Albus spent simply smiling at the top of Tom's head, Tom asked, "What am I seeing in this mirror? What it shows me is… it's impossible. She can't have… He…"

Albus met Tom's eyes and said, "It pleases me that you see others than yourself, Tom. There was a time, before coming to Hogwarts, that I imagine your specific image in the Mirror of Erised would have been different. What have you seen, Tom? Who is this He and She you speak of?"

Tom fidgeted in his chair. He really wanted to leave. This chair… the stuffing was rock hard. The prickling paint in the arms was scratching him. He couldn't find a good place to rest his head. Everything about this situation made him uncomfortable and Albus must have noticed because he said, "I apologize Tom. My curiosity often bests my manners and I have not answered your question. Instead, I shall answer it with a question. Why do you think you saw what you saw, Tom?"

Tom looked back at the mirror, which had returned to reflecting only the room. Tom noticed for the first time that the mirror wasn't made of glass; it was made of a tarnished silver. Patches around the edges were brown and no longer shined like the rest of it. Tom looked back and said the first thing that came into his mind, "It shows me what I want. Even though I don't know that I want it. I didn't know I wanted."

Albus's smile widened a little as he replied, "Very close indeed, Tom. A great first answer. This mirror… shows nothing less, or more, than the deepest, most desperate desires of our hearts. It's enchantments reflect back onto us an image of what we want most. It reflects back to us our insecurities in the form of what we think will make us whole. I myself…"

Albus stops and sits up straight and Tom sees a moment of confusion he has never seen on the man's face, before meeting Tom's gaze again but with noticeably sadder eyes, "I apologize Tom. I very nearly lied to you. If our trust is to remain, even if you may not catch it, I must not think a lie is the correct path forward. I was going to repeat a simple lie that I tell everyone about what I want as a birthday or Christmas gift, but that is not what I see in the mirror. What I see when I look into the Mirror of Erised, is the face of the man… Of the man I still love… I see him approach me with a smile I have not since we were young. A smile when I knew he had not yet been corrupted. When we had not sought what we sought.

"And then I see my mother and brother behind him, teaching my dear sister Ariana how to use a wand for the first time. A wand she never got to use. Would you do me the kindness of sharing your own reflection?"

Tom looked at a version of Albus Dumbledore he had never seen, a man who was just as broken inside of him and held onto his mask just as tight, and knew it was only right to reciprocate. Tom got up and walked back over to the mirror and when Albus joined him, he said, "I see what I think is my mother… I can't see her face… It's almost haunting how everything else about her is clear but her face is just… clouded over… I see her holding a baby while rocking in a chair. I see my father walk up with a small book in his hand and sit next to her as he reads both her and the child a story. My mother rests her head on his shoulders as it continues. It repeats from there. I can't read what my father is saying, but he smiles just like I do every few pages he turns."

Tom turns to look up at Albus, who he sees has silent tears slowly sliding down his face, and says, "Does it hurt you to see him?"

Without looking back down, Albus reaches out to touch the mirror, to touch a hand to a reflected hand Tom cannot see, and says, "It is a pain I bring with me always. It has been decades since I have seen him. But it will not be long before we will be forced to face each other. Not long. Tom, may I tell you something not even my closest friends know?"

Tom looked back at the mirror, envy seeping into him for the child whose mother and father loved him so, and who loved each other so, and said, "Yes. And in return, I shall tell you mine."

Albus slowly lowered his hand, finger by finger, until only his middle finger was left touching the Mirror of Erised and when it too fell, Albus said behind a soft sob, "I don't know if I will be ready. I am an old man whose regrets can only be resolved through this one, singular path. But to take that path, I must face the man I love. I must face him. And stop him. Because only I can. Not out of arrogance. Not out of spite. But because he will not stop until I do. And I don't know if I will stop him. I am afraid that I will join him."

Tom could now hear Albus's attempts to stop crying as they both stood in the front of the mirror and saw their deepest insecurities reflected back at them. Tom felt he would never know love because he himself had never felt it. Albus lived with the regret of an old man who failed at every turn to save his own family and bring the one he loved back to the light. They stood there, alone, but together in their silence for what felt like a lifetime.

Tom began to feel his own tears form and flow down his cheeks, far beyond his to hold onto his facade, as he said, "I could not see my mother's face because I have never seen it. But I have seen my father's face, Albus. I have seen it… because I killed him."


	5. Inter Spem et Metum

Tom waited a minute. Two. Four minutes while looking up at Albus Dumbledore as he waited for the man to respond. To ask a curious question. To be what Tom had come to rely on as a source of intellectual rebuttal and an emotional safe-space, even if the conversation resulted in fair judgement. But Albus made him wait. When Albus finally looked down, Tom saw that the man's tears were beginning to dry and Tom thought for a moment that maybe he didn't want Tom to see the vulnerability. But before Tom could maintain his curiosity, Albus asked, "Is this the nightmare you declined to speak of whilst you were in the Hospital Wing, Tom? And may we sit back down. I am afraid this mirror may hurt me more than it does you, not to diminish your pain or want for family."

Tom obliged and joined Albus back at their chairs and as he sat down, Tom began, "A couple days before my duel with Tarquin, I saw a vision of an older version of myself. Maybe 4 or 5 years older than I am now. I was taller. My hair was slicked with something that felt gross in my hands. Whatever. I… I saw this older me… I saw him go to my father's house and kill both him and his father. It was like I was watching it all happen inside his body. I felt the touch of his wand… It wasn't my wand though. I have a wand made of Willow; this one was shorter and when I… When this version of me cast the spells, it felt different. It didn't feel like it came from a phoenix feather like mine does. I don't know how to describe it but that doesn't matter.

"What I saw was this version of me use that mind control spell you used when you came to pick me up from Wool's the first time. I made a man with a limp… I think he was a gardener or something… I made him go back home while I entered the house. I confronted my father… he and I look a lot alike and I think he saw the similarities between this version of me and himself as well because he was uncomfortable the whole time. When the me in the dream was done asking them questions about my mom, he killed them. They kept insulting her… calling her names because she lived in a hut or something. He… I killed them.

"And then… As I was walking out of their house, I stopped in front of a mirror and saw my own face… The older face… And as this 'me' was fixing his hair in the mirror, I saw something that… It made it all worse. I don't know why. It was worse than what I was forced to feel when I saw that couple die and the green light. I saw a red glint… Like a flash of red… In my own eyes. I've never seen that before and it… When I woke up, I was screaming and checked my own eyes. They weren't red at all… But I can still remember seeing that glint… That horrible red… And now I can't look in the mirror. I don't want to feel that way ever again, Albus."

Albus Dumbledore sat in front of Tom silently throughout Tom's retelling of his nightmare and didn't move. Not even to scratch his beard. When Tom finished, Albus sat there, looking at Tom just over his spectacles, and didn't smile as he said, "You saw yourself kill your father and grandfather, in this dream. Describe this feeling more. Did your reaction feel like it was natural to you or did it feel like it came from another source? The emotions? How it affected your body?"

Tom squirmed in his chair a little as he painfully tried to remember the exact nature of the feelings. How foreign they felt. Why did they feel like they weren't his own? He looked up to Albus and said, "They didn't feel like they were my own. Seeing them die in front of me didn't affect me at all, Albus. I don't feel the fear, the agony, until I have either seen the green light itself or now that red glint in that version's eyes. What's going on Albus? Am I… Is it natural for me to feel like these feelings aren't my own? Should they have been my own?"

Now Albus began to stroke his beard as he stood up and began to slowly pace in a circle. Shaking his head or nodding as he went, Tom wondered just what was going through the professor's mind until Albus finally answered, "I have many theories. Some of which you are too young to understand and some I don't know if I am the right person to tell you. You emphasized that this feeling of agony and fear felt foreign. Would you say that it was implanted, as if part of the dream was to make your body react in this way? Like it was part of its intent?"

Tom sunk in his chair a little before answering, "I… I'm not sure… I just know that I don't think I would have reacted that way. I've do… I've seen things die before and they didn't… They didn't affect me like that. When…"

Albus cut him off, "Tom, I am going to ask you a very hard question. A question I don't think you are ready to answer but must be asked if we are to move forward. Did you heal Mr. D'auferio out of seeing that glint in your eye, and not for the sake of his death?"

Confusion struck Tom as he looked up and saw Albus at his most serious since he first questioned him about the duel. He could feel the intensity of Albus's eyes piercing him. But he couldn't look away. He never could. And he knew he had to answer honestly, or this would never end. Tom took a deep breath and said, "Yes. I did. I… I never want to feel that way again, Albus. I was afraid that if I let him die, if I let him fall… If I use that spell… He would die… And I would forever see that glint in my eyes. I am more afraid that seeing that red would stop affecting me. Because I don't want to kill people like the me in my nightmares. The anger he felt… I felt it in my entire body like it was my own. It pulsed like a second heartbeat through my veins, Albus. I never, ever, want to feel that again."

Albus looked at Tom for a long, too long, moment. His electric blue eyes stayed locked on Tom's, as if searching for himself to find the red glint. To find the evil buried within Tom. But as Albus sat back down in his too-small chair, he gave Tom a small grin, he said, "I see I was correct to make you fear me from the start, Tom. I did not know if it was the right course. I still don't. I don't believe fear is as useful a tool in changing a person as love. But I think you fear the act of lying to me and while I don't want you to be afraid of me, I like that you have maintained honesty. At least with me. Your smile has fooled even Headmaster Dippet, who is no fool. What I mean to say, is that I do not want you to be afraid of me. I only want you to treat me as though I were your equal. Not in power, for, being modest, I far outstrip you in every way. But in humanity.

"I asked you this simple, yet admittedly difficult question because I want to finalize my theory that you are not gaining prophetic abilities. You are not a seer. I have known only 3 in my lifetime and none of them have the detail, nor emotional connection, to their prophecies. It is rare, almost unique, what you are experiencing, Tom. It is even a mystery to me how what I think is happening to you works. But to know more, I will need you to trust me. Not today. Not tomorrow. But at some point in the coming months, before you have another… episode… shall we call them… I will ask you to put your full trust in me. Until that point, I believe it best to keep you in the dark. Allowing your mind to know what I have planned may tarnish our chances of solving this for good."

As Albus stood, stretching and cracking in his way up, he looked down at his open pocket watch and said, "I am afraid I don't have more time today to discuss this matter further with you, Tom. One day, I hope our discussions do not have to revolve around this topic and we will be able to truly enjoy each other's company. It will not be soon, but that is alright. I believe the owl post is being distributed in the great hall soon and I have urgent matters with the ministry to attend soon. I will see you at the announcement for the second challenge. Sleep well. Should you have another nightmare, contact me immediately."

Without another word, or time for Tom to say one, Albus turned and left Tom alone in front of the Mirror of Erised. Tom sat in the red and gold throne for a few minutes before going back to the front of the mirror and taking one last look at his mother and father. The mirror did indeed have a powerful effect on him. One of both sadness and warmth for his heart and body. After two loops of the image in the mirror, Tom left the Room of Requirement and made his way down to the Great Hall to eat lunch.

When he finally got there, there were only a couple students from other groups left, eating by themselves in opposite corners of the hall. As he sat down and asked for a small soup and sandwich, which promptly appeared in front of him, Professor Picard came and sat next to him and said as she held a small letter out to him, "Zis came for you in ze post, Monsieur Riddle. Tell whoever owns zat bird to feed it more. Zis journey was not kind." Tom watched, perplexed as she set the letter down on the table, took a small piece of the bread of his sandwich, dipped it in his Scotch Broth soup, and ate it before leaving without another word. No one had ever taken food from him before but as he couldn't feel malice in the professor's intent, he let the moment go as he looked at the letter. Before flipping it over, Tom looked for a long time at the purple and silver wax seal on the back of the envelope.

Encased in an oval of corded rope and resting atop what Tom assumed to be to be illustration of a gemstone, was a set of concentric triangles, wherein the outer triangle formed the inner through the use of thicker lines. It reminded Tom of images he saw of royal jewelry and how intricate they were. When he turned the envelope over, he saw that it was addressed to him from Piper Nobel, the one person he had been waiting all summer to talk to. Tom easily separated the wax from the paper and pulled out the letter to read it.

Dear Tom Riddle,

I hope your summer at Hogwarts is going well. I am quite jealous it was invitation only, and you of all people were chosen. Who better to keep everyone entertained than a metamorphmagus as skilled and devoted to their craft than me? That's a bad joke, I'm sure Dumbledore had something in mind to keep you there instead of sending you back to an orphanage. I would offer to bring you home with me but, seeing as my family's being here is sort of a secret, my family can't risk it. You wouldn't even be able to see the house unless my mother allowed you in. The only other person who knows we live here is Tarquin, and that's because people don't know he lives here either. It's kind of how we bonded as kids. If you tell anyone, someone from the ministry would probably Obliviate you. And I wish I was joking.

He hasn't spoken to me much, which I know you were wondering. I'm not trying to guilt you, but I think he might still be on his way 'back' . When we do talk, he has these long pauses where he forgets what was going on. I pressed him on it once after a family dinner and all he said before shaking my hand away from his shoulder was, "The veil looks so beautiful." Whatever that means. Our families have dinner once a week, mostly because my mother cannot cook to save her life and his mother is a cook at a restaurant in our village. She does too much, that woman.

Most of my summer has just been practicing my impressions of various people. I think I have Professor Dumbledore and Professor Dippet down now. It was all in the voice. Their beards were easy, once I could properly make them go back into my chin when I was done. I missed a patch last week and I will never look at lamb stew the same way again. Aside from that, I've taken to reading muggle fiction. It seems odd how natural magic has come to my family, since my mother was the first in our family's ENTIRE ancestry to show any aptitude, but reading muggle fantasy novels about magic has begun to make me wonder just how close to the mark they are. Granted, a lot of the mythology they use as reference is based on our kind not being careful enough or from a time before the Statute of Secrecy, but still, it's truly amazing. I wonder how close the Ministry watches and reads Muggle fiction to see if they need to tighten regulations about magic in public? Since you're new to the magical world, what do you think about the Statute?

I hope you are also at least making one friend while I'm gone. I hope not to offend, but it was somewhat exhausting being your only source of friendship in our first year. You will by no means lose me, but I want to expand my circle a bit. A few of the Aurors that came to school for that career… Thing… Dippet and Dumbledore set up told me it would be wise to start gathering friends now because of the situation in mainland Europe. Apparently they might fast-track auror training if it makes it to England.

I look forward to your first letter. I am definitely not offended that your first was to an older woman. Even if she isn't into you.

Don't get expelled while I'm gone,

Piper Nobel

Tom re-read the letter a couple times and while the effect wasn't as harsh as the last time she mentioned their friendship, Tom couldn't help but wonder just how much they would pull back from him this year. Had they still not forgiven him? Even if he did have more friends right now, he didn't think they would stay that way once the school year began. Oswald wouldn't be dumb enough to be seen with Tom after the latter's duel with Tarquin. Isobel was graduating in a year and NEWT exams, or so Tom had heard, are grueling. The only one Tom might stay friends with in the coming term was Blink. But Blink would have Quidditch and his own personal experiments. Would he be alone again, like the beginning of last school year? The thought didn't affect Tom either way but he did know he enjoyed himself far more when he had Piper or Blink around.

Tom immediately took out a quill and wrote back a response.

Dear Piper Nobel,

My summer has been nothing but interesting. It turns out that every student that was chosen to stay is an orphan or otherwise guardianless student. There are a couple of people who have parents but they are always travelling for work. I think one of them has a parent that works in the Department of Mysteries, but I'm not sure.. I know you don't like talking about him, but I would like to hear more about your family and your grandfather when you come back from term. In return, I'll tell you what I now know about mine.

I have more I want to tell you about what has happened but I don't think this letter would make it out of the castle if I did. But I will say this: I found a different version of the Room of Requirement. You read that right; our hideout has different versions of itself, Which makes me all the more interested in the magic of this place.

Dumbledore set up a series of competitions for groups of 4 of us to compete at to get to know each other. We weren't close before but after I dueled one of them, no I didn't kill him, and then helped save another after he broke his arm badly while practicing Quidditch in the dark like an idiot, we became close. They aren't like you, but both of them are surprisingly competent. Blinky is a genius when it comes to understanding how ingredients work in Potions and Oswald, the Gryffindor boy I dueled but didn't kill isn't a slouch himself. The last member, Isobel, is a NEWT student and she might be the smartest person in the school. I wish she were in our year. She'd make a great rival for me since Tula and I aren't in any classes together and you already know how good I think you are.

Tom looked down at his quill for a long time as he tried to continue the letter. What should he say about what they said about their friendship? Their excuse about the aurors felt like just that. Piper would notice it if he didn't address it, so he continued.

I haven't read much on the Statute, but I think keeping magic hidden from muggles might be safer, for now. I've seen how muggles use their power to hurt and keep people down and it would only get worse if they were able to use magic to do even more damage. They already have firearms and bombs. They don't need us too. There isn't a way for our worlds to coexist without one ruling over the other.

Albus told me something recently and I don't know how well this will come across, but if it works for him, I think it will work with us too. Being at Hogwarts with you is much more enjoyable than one without you. I have never had someone challenge me like you do. And I don't want that to stop. But in order for that part to stay, I am willing to share you with others. I am not good at sharing. When something is mine, I want to keep it that way. But that brought you pain and made my life less enjoyable. I don't know what else to say. Now I don't feel good.

Before I forget, Professor Picard says you need to feed your owl more.

Still not expelled,

Tom Marvolo Riddle; 2nd year Student of House Slytherin.

Tom drew his wand and almost lit the letter on fire but stopped in the middle of the incantation. His skin crawled as he wrote it but it was all truth. Isn't that what Albus said was most important? He wasn't sorry for treating Piper like the rest of his things, so he wasn't lying at all. But he also knew that they might have expected an apology after everything. Would they believe his lie if he said it or wrote it in the letter like Albus always could? Tom sat and looked at the letter multiple times and finally decided to just let it be and deal with whatever Piper said when they said it to him face to face. Replying on such a topic in a letter just wasn't the same.

Before leaving the Great Hall, Tom walked up to the professor's table and asked Professor Picard if they could send his letter back with the owl it came with. They looked a little disgruntled but relented when Tom gave her the same smile he always used to keep the other professors on his side during class. That night, Tom could not get his response to Piper's letter of his head. It felt honest. But something still felt wrong to him about it. He just couldn't pin it down and fell asleep still pondering the question.

As everyone gathered for breakfast the next morning, Professor Dumbledore addressed them all on the setting for the second challenge.

"Your second challenge will be one on transfiguration. Your task will be to complete a timed trial through a course in which you must transfigure a single object 4 times before reaching the finish. In what order, and who does each section of the relay, is up to your groups. However, all 4 transformations must occur or your group will be disqualified. Seeing as only one of you is a 2nd year, and a rather talented one at that, I have set the average difficulty for just above OWL level. The transformations are as follows: an animated, wooden horse no larger than a dog, a bird of paradise, a small tin soldier, and finally the black honeybee.

"Each group's trial will be done separately and without audience save for myself and a special guest judge to determine both the accuracy of your spells and your group's ability to control your transformed objects. Unlike the first challenge, points will be allocated by total score. First place receives 10, last will receive 2, and even increments in between. Note, that every member of your group must perform one, and only one, transformation. Also unlike the previous challenge, for the next 2 weeks before the trial, I will be holding office hours should you wish to brush up on your spells and incantations. In addition, our fantastic librarian, Madame Fortescue, has also graciously volunteered her time to tutor younger students that wish to learn the more difficult transfiguration spells as well.

"Good luck to you all. Off you go, pip pip."

As soon as Dumbledore sat down to join the rest of the present faculty for his breakfast, the entire room buzzed with excitement. There were some nervous younger students who were unsure if they would be able to cast any of the spells required because they haven't reached that level yet. Tom himself thought about it and that while he could manifest a bird of paradise with a conjuration spell, to transfigure any object into a bird of paradise was beyond what he had learned so far. He had learned, via the Vera Verto spell, how to turn a bird into an inanimate object. But to turn something inanimate into living was currently beyond his depth.

Tom looked to the rest of his group and the only one who seemed worried was Blink. He fidgeted with his wand as Tom ask him, "How are you with Transfiguration, Blink? I assume you've got another lecture in you on the importance of, how you say, varia-boos?"

Blink faked a chuckle and stood up as he said, "Yeah, Yeah. No. I suck a' trans-formy spell's, Tommy-boy. I tried turnin' my clock into a brick vis mornin' an' instead, i' turned it into a can-doo. Min', I said vuh spell right an' every'fing."

Isobel clapped him on the back a couple times and said, "I'm sure between Tom and I, we'll get you straight. Right, Tom? Hell, it could literally just be that god awful accent of yours. Only joking, of course. I can't imagine you without it." Tom, unsure of how well he would be able to teach after his attempt with Hugh Reymund the previous year, nodded in fake assurance as Oswald led them out of the Great Hall to begin practicing for Dumbledore's second challenge.


	6. Sine Fide Visus

Despite being the best in his class at every topic besides Astronomy, which mattered as much to him as the whims an ant to a boot, Tom and Blink both struggled as they began to learn complicated transfiguration spells in Madame Fortescue's workshop. On the first day, Tom thought he would show his upperclassmen his abilities but when he found that turning an object into a bird was an order of magnitude more difficult than turning a bird into an object, he took a backseat and practiced just as hard as he used to. Outside of the workshops, he spent most of his day in the library taking copious notes on the nature of the spells, the magical theory for how 'life' is temporarily imparted onto the object of your spells, and most importantly, how horribly wrong the transformation can go if your intent did not match or exceed the difficulty of the spell. Tom deduced that, like his previous struggles with reversing curses and charms, it was his intent and power of will that lacked when it came to these spells. He grasped the theory and incantation meanings well enough but it still took him 3 days before he made progress he was proud of.

Blink, on the other hand, moaned to himself for the first 3 days as he struggled to turn a Quaffle into a bird of paradise. Most of which were about how 'wrong it was to turn sumfing awe-ready perfec' into a dumb bird'. However, as Tom made progress, so did he and by the end of the 4th day of their training for the second challenge, they could both cast the Avian Transformation spell, Avi Verto, without fail 3 times in a row. There were minor details, such as when Blink insisted to practice on the, as he put it, 'natural habitat' of the Quaffle and took Tom to the quidditch pitch. When Blink cast the spell, the bird always seemed to want to fly through the hoops and Blink laughed as he said, "I owe-ways knew vey were enchan'ed to go froo vee 'oops. Vey jus'' know where vey belong." Tom laughed as well as he attempted and partially succeeded at turning his red and blue hornbill into a wooden horse with a whispered but determined casting of, "Permuto Equiligneum."

As the bird began to coast towards the ground, it gave a pained squawk as its plumage gave way to a wooden frame. Its wings and crowns became larger and turned into 4 legs and hooves. Where Tom saw his mistake was in the mane of the horse. It still had the 'horn' of the hornbill instead of one made of wood. Blink looked at Tom in a mixture of surprise and offense as he asked, "An' since when have we bin ay-bow to do vat, Tommy-boy? We fought we was bruhvahs in inep… Inepppy… Damnit. Wha's vuh damn word, Tom?"

Tom, who was laughing with his hands clutching his chest at Blink's failure to complete his comeback, said after sitting up from the slope of the grassy pitch, "Ineptitude. I don't think that's a good one for your accent, Blink. Stick with 'we both suck'. Or a jape about Manchester United and their goalie always having his bollocks in his hands. And I never sucked. I just haven't seen spells like these before, so I was back to square one. I may be OWL level in defense, charms, and potions but I'm only up to 3rd year Transfiguration spells. That'll change this summer, though. It's quite fun to be challenged like this. You can only flavor a curse so much before it becomes boring. For example, stand up, Blink."

Blink raised his left eyebrow as they both dusted themselves off and Tom rolled up his sleeves and began, "Alright, so, let's say you want to cast Lumos. Normally it would come out a bland…" He cast the Light spell and out came a faint cone of light that barely showed under the heavy summer sun and he continued, "... off white. However, if I simply modify my thoughts and will the spell to change its look…" This time, Tom concentrating on the image of a rainbow and pointed his wand to the sky as he cast, "Lumos Maxima!".

This time, a giant, cascading rainbow appeared above the pitch and even though it didn't provide additional light, Blink slow-clapped as he looked up at Tom's creation, which was slowly beginning to fade. As Blink continued to look up, watching it fade out of existence, Tom smirked as he pointed his wand at the boy's face and said, "But with a curse, all I can do is… Tabus Expulso!" Blink didn't draw his wand in time before a brief fountain of green and yellow pus shot out of his nose. His eyes rolled back into his head and he fell backwards onto the grass from the force of the ejecting pus. It only lasted a second but it took a full 5 minutes of Blink coughing and blowing snot rockets into the grass before he was able to regain his composure and pounce on Tom. Tom laughed as he struggled under Blink's weight, surprised by the boy's strength. Blink wasn't bulky, but Tom knew he practiced as a Chaser every moment he wasn't with the group or eating.

Tom could feel the boy's muscles under his shirt as he tried and failed multiple times to get up and Blink's wide smile showed a few fake teeth near the back of his mouth. They continued to roll around on the pitch until Blink finally was able to wrench his wand from his pants pockets and point it at Tom's forehead. Tom stiffened as he saw new combination of wild fury and glee on Blink's as he pinned Tom down. With one hand pushing Tom's chest down and the other keeping the wand aloft just above the space between Tom's eyebrows, Tom wondered if he had maybe gone too far. Maybe the stories Blink told were true and now Tom would get a reprisal of some kind. Blink blinked at Tom and his smile softened. Tom was still confused until he leaned a little closer to the boy's face and said, "Wait, do that again."

Tom watched as both of Blink's hazel eyes closed and reopened and Tom immediately started to laugh beneath the weight of Blink's still pushing hand. Blink asked, "Qui' vuh brave one, aren' yuh, Tommy-boy. Hel' down by me wiv me wand poin'ed and ready to curse and yu fink i's time for a righ' and hear'y chuck-oo."

Tom opened his eyes again to look into Blink's and said as he moved the boy's wand away from his face and said, "Did you just try to wink at me, Blink?"

Blink's smile dropped and said, "Well, yeah. Bu'..."

Tom chuckled again and continued, "It wasn't as funny when you showed everyone in the group but, seeing it up close… Man I just couldn't help myself. You really do blink, Blink."

Blink lessened his weight on Tom and let him slide out as he said, "Well hardy-har. Yes, I can' wink. Now, stan' up so I can give you a curse back. Tha' one you cas' was some-fing on'y a Mannie' cun' would do. Now I'll show yuh why…" But before he could continue, Tom took his chance, snatched his wand off the grass and began to sprint as fast as he could off the pitch. Blink laughed as he slowly got up and said to himself, "Hundred meters and then he's yours, ol' Blinky-boy."

True to his word, right as Tom crossed the midline of the quidditch pitch and turned to run towards the exit, Blink took a deep breath and sprang out his stance and teared after Tom. It only took a minute and a half before Tom was within 20 meters of Blink and the latter laughed like a maniac as he slowed his pace to just barely keep Tom within his reach. They both laughed for another 2 minutes before Tom began to feel an ache in both his quads and glutes and this time, Blink seized his moment. As Tom began to slow and his laughing turned to gasping for breath, Blink slowed to a walk and lazily raised his wand as he cast, "Orbis." Tom's eyes widened as he felt the ground beneath him disappear and then collapse back into him as it sucked him in. He began to breathe hard as he wrenched his hand and wand free and pointed to the sky as he cast an Ascending Charm. But he overshot the strength and Blink blinked at him again as he followed Tom's path in the air and right before his feet would have touched the ground, he cast, "Immobulus."

Tom felt his body go rigid in the air but no part of him touched the field. No part of him was touching anything for Blink had locked him into place in mid-air and was now laughing to himself as he walked over to Tom. Blink smirked and said, "Time for a good o' spin, Tommy-boy," and pushed on Tom's rigid, floating arms and legs until Tom began to spin in the air. It wasn't long before Tom lost his bearings and started to feel his stomach gurgle and vomit rise in this throat.

Thankfully, Blink performed the counter-charm a few seconds later and Tom landed softly on the pitch with just the taste of sick in his mouth. Blink laughed as he helped Tom up and said as he tapped Tom's chest with the side of his fist twice, "Min', I don't fink I'd stan' much a chance if we duelled. Bu' if anyone evuh, I mean evuh, comes a' you in vuh mugg-oo world, sen' me a pos' and I'll bring me too's from Ol' Red and they' won' si' straigh' for a munf." Tom tapped Blink twice on the chest too as he smiled and led the way out of Quidditch Pitch and back into the castle for an early dinner.

After another few days of intense practice, with some added help from Isobel on the rare occasion she graced them with her presence, Tom was able to cast each of the possible transformation spells without fail and turn them back into their original form. No squawking tin men. No wooden birds of paradise. And no bees with the wings of a toucan. Isobel helped him in a kind of guided meditation before he cast each one. To center his design for his intended transformation, Isobel had him view it as if it were in motion and he had to circle it with his mind as well. To take in its surroundings. To feel the wind on his cheeks and hair. To smell the wood of the horse, hear the cry of the bird, feel the sting of the bee, and see the glint of the tin man. Tom didn't say it, but those moments helped a lot. And he didn't pass up any moment to make Blink jealous when Isobel would come close and touch their foreheads together as if she could pass the imagery into his mind through metaphysical osmosis.

While Tom still sat and helped Tom light up the pitch after dinner so Blink could practice broom maneuvers, he spent the rest of his day away from the group and hanging out with his Gryffindor friends. Tom wasn't as connected to him so it only bothered him a little whenever he would leave to be with them. They still had their moments. They now had a silent competition every night to see who could transform a piece of parchment into an origami animal using only magic. Oswald was only up by one point, 5-4, because he performed, and Tom even admitted it was, a masterful charm that turned the plain piece of paper into an origami dragonfly that fluttered around their heads until Albus came over to them and said, "Well done, Mr. Friedrichson. This is quite beautiful; may I keep it?"

Tom felt a hint of jealousy rise in him but he channeled it into the following night, the night before the second challenge, and did something even a few of the 7th year students, Isobel including, looked at in awe. Oswald cast his spell and turned a 14 inch long sheet of parchment into a rhinoceros that bounded up and down the Great Hall. Tom and Oswald laughed together when it tried to ram into the buttocks of the Slytherin girl, Myrra. She looked back just in time to flex both of her glutes and the rhino bounced right off and backed away with a crumpled paper horn. Myrra gave Oswald a wry grin, which Tom saw made Oswald blush even in the darkness of the dimly lit hall, before she turned back over to go to sleep.

Tom poked at him and said as he looked back to Blink's sleeping bag from near Oswald's, "Oh boy, Blink, get over here. I think Ozzy's got a crush on a girl in our house."

Blink spun from inside his sleeping bag until Tom saw just a pair of hazel eyes and white teeth in the darkness. The eyes narrowed and the smile turned into an evil grin as Blink stage-whispered, "Oh, Ozzy-lad. Vuh treason continues."

Oswald immediately punched Tom and muttered, "Leave it well alone. I've got a process and it won't work if you two keep blabbing it for all the orphaned and abandoned to hear. Now, it's your turn, Tom." Tom's jaw nearly landed in his lap as he heard Oswald use his first name for the first time. Oswald didn't seem to notice as he shoved the requisite 14 inch piece of parchment towards Tom and Tom knew he had to let it pass. He closed his eyes hard and pictured everything he wanted his mind. He had never touched it, smelled it, nor heard it. But he knew its colors. How beautiful it was as it swam through the water beneath his boat that day. This would be a good way to tie their score and end the competition for good. There was no way Oswald could top this.

Tom opened his eyes, concentrating so hard his eyebrows began to hurt, and whispered, "Rugamutas Locomotor." At first, the paper began to only slowly fold itself but as it picked up the pace, everyone around them began to watch as the folds became more and more intricate. Tom knew it would take some time and he was glad the paper was just loud enough that even a few girls began to cross the border into the mens, including Myrra who sat right next to Oswald, and watched Tom's spell work. Slowly but surely, tentacles began to form, and then a small paper beak, and then a bulbous but beautiful polygonal head. It kept going for a couple minutes until almost everyone in the hall was now gathered in the middle as a small, iridescently purple, blue, and light green began to glow as it floated ominously up and around the great hall.

Even if it wasn't the real thing, it's beauty haunted Tom as he looked upon his work and then looked around to see everyone else's reactions. Every single person in the hall, which now included every teacher that decided to stay at Hogwarts, and most importantly Albus Dumbledore, watched in silence as the miniaturized, paper giant squid of the Black Lake floated around the Great Hall. Madame Fortescue wiped away a few tears and Tom could have sworn that even in the dim lighting of the hall, he saw the raw smile on Albus's face he had been fighting and hoping for since the day he came to Hogwarts.

Everyone continued to watch as the paper squid made one more lap around the Great Hall and landed in Tom's hand. As it unfolded and it's coloration faded, Tom looked around and everyone was wordlessly getting back into their sleeping bags. A feeling of dread was just rising in him before Blink squashed it back down as he said loud enough to echo off the walls of the hall, "Blimey, Tommy-boy. I ain' cried like va' since Liv-uh-poo came back from 5 down tuh Ci'y. Good one yuh, done stunned us all tuh silence. I fink he's won vis round, Ozzy-lad."

Oswald, who Tom saw was squeezing the hand of the Slytherin girl, Myrra, was sitting so still Tom thought he might have been petrified. After a few seconds, Myrra said, "You're hurting my hand, Oswald."

Oswald looked down and did a double take on his intertwined hand with Myrra's and Myrra's face and immediately let it go as he stammered, "I… Yeah… Sorry… I jus… Ahem. You win Tom. I can't… I'm… I need the loo…"

Myrra stood up at the same time as Oswald left to leave the hall and said back to Tom before she crossed over to the female section, "Do yourself a favor and don't do that again. Wolfe would curse us all for coming after you." Unsure of what she meant but not willing to pursue it either, Tom looked down at the paper and fell asleep to wondrous visions in his mind of the paper squid floating around the Great Hall, faintly glowing as it coasted along the walls.

Tom awoke the next day with a calm he didn't expect but welcomed it nonetheless. He had fallen asleep on top of Oswald's sleeping bag and someone must have covered him up because he had a purple throw blanket on him. Oswald did as well as Tom looked around and saw him a couple feet away with his face buried into his pillow. The sun had not risen yet but as Tom pandiculated his way into sitting up, he saw that Blink's sleeping bag was the only one of the boy's missing. Figuring he must be down at the pitch, Tom went back to his bag and changed his shirt before leaving the castle towards the Quidditch Pitch.

Before Tom made it there, however, Tom saw Blink standing in front of 6 Quaffles on the ground and was turning them, in turn, into different things. One by one down the line he turned each maroon ball into one of the 4 different transformations needed for the day's challenge. Tom sat against the wall of the castle as he sat and watched Blink complete 4 circuits in a row before, as he turned around the wipe his sweaty face on his shirt, he saw Tom and grinned.

After crouching down next to Tom, Blink said, "You caugh' me, Tommy-boy. If you tell anyone I care about vis as much as I do Quidditch, I'm gonna need my Elbow Grease tuh clean up afterward." Blink blinked and gently elbowed Tom in the ribs before getting back up to continue practicing. Every now and again, Blink's accent would keep him from performing an incantation correctly and then he would pace back and forth for a minute, reciting it again and again until he had it managed and tried the circuit again. Tom helped from the wall by casting, "Reparifarge" every time Blink successfully transformed something into a bird. It wasn't as often because Blink still seemed to have trouble with because, as he told Tom during a previous workshop with Madame Fortescue, "I's hard tuh fink of somefin withou' life suddenly havin' i', yuh know? Like, I always fink vuh best Chase-uhs have go' a connection wiv a Quaff. Bu' va's different from vis. My min' can' breave life into everyfing I fink of. It's all mad."

After a few more successful circuits, Blink vanished each of the 6 balls in a show of mastery that showed enough surprise on Tom's face for Blink to blink at him and say with a smirk, "I clean up my messes, Tommy-boy."

They spent the rest of their morning eating breakfast with the rest of the groups. Every time Isobel, who was now in loop on the brewing love between Oswald and the Slytherin Myrra, saw Oswald look toward Myrra's group, she would make a single mushroom sprout from his hand and Tom and Blink would cackle. When Tom saw Blink look longingly at Isobel, Tom whispered to him, "You need a mushroom of your own, my friend." Blink's sable cheeks blushed and he gorged down his bowl of porridge.

After everyone had eaten, Madame Fortescue stood up from her seat along the professor's table and said, "Alright, it's time for the second challenge tweenies. I've got a cactus with the name of whoever attended my lessons and still finishes last, so don't give me any ideas. Professor Dumbledore'll meet us on the lawn outside the Forbidden Forest."

Tom and the rest of the students followed the librarian out onto the grounds and down a steep hill until they saw an item resting on a pedestal between Albus Dumbledore and a brown haired woman Tom did not recognize: a simple rock. Albus smiled as he looked to each group and said loud enough for everyone to hear, "Good morning everyone. Before we begin the event, I would like to introduce a close friend and former colleague of mine. She has been on… sabbatical… for the past few years but we hope to see her return soon. Please help me give a warm welcome and return to Madame Minerva McGonagall."

Everyone in the group except for Tom lightly clapped. He was just far enough behind everyone that no one would notice and he wasn't ready to pass judgment on her. However, to his dismay, this woman had sharp eyes and they locked onto Tom's after everyone stopped clapping and stayed there until she addressed them with a stern voice, "Today's challenge, as I am sure Professor Dumbledore has briefed you all, is a time trial. The first transformation is from a rock into your desired progression, however, from there, each member of your group must transform the next object into something that has not been used, and so on until you have completed the trial. Your time will be added to or subtracted from for the quality of your spells. While each group goes in turn, you all will wait outside. Good luck to you all."

Tom looked around at everyone and saw them all huddled and planning for their turns, so he looked to his own group and they were waiting for him a few feet away. When he joined them, Isobel said, "Alright, we've got this in the bag. I don't think we should order ourselves until we see the course. Plus, we have no idea what…"

She looked out at the rock between Madame McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore and continued, "We can't even see the course. My guess is the moment we touch it something will happen that clouds the area so no other group can see how we completed it. We've got this either way. Blink, you've been aces practicing with those Quaffles. Oswald, you're no slouch. Tom and I, well, you already know."

Each of them nodded as Professor Dumbledore announced that the first group would be one led by the Gryffindor boy Arthur Wright and that each group would be announced thereafter. Everyone else found a comfortable spot on the ground as Arthur and his group, two Ravenclaw boy's and a Hufflepuff boy, walked forward to meet with Madame McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore. The boy nodded as he listened to instructions Tom couldn't hear and then nodded to his group just before he touched the stone and something marvelous happened. Tom had no idea how the stone could contain such powerful magic, but a massive black fabric began to flow like a river out from behind the rock and formed itself around both his group and the two judges. It whirled around them like wrapping paper until it formed an immense black tent and they disappeared from view. No sound escaped from the tent. The fabric of the tent flapped in the wind and despite lacking any stakes or visible means, it remained rooted to the ground.

Many minutes passed as they all waited for the first group to complete the challenge. A few groups took to practicing the spells required for the challenge but Tom felt confident enough in his abilities to lounge back on the grass. After 15 minutes of silent waiting, Tom watched as the first group emerged from the tent, haggard and downtrodden. Arthur's Gryffindor tie was missing from his neck and his white dress shirt was covered in dirt. The gears in Tom's mind went as fast as lightning as he saw the first group trudge up the hill back up to the castle. One of the boys was silently crying as he leaned on his fellow Ravenclaw and nearly bit the dirt after tripping on a rock and he gasped out a cry as the other boy lifted him to his feet.

Interest creeped its way into Tom's mind. What could have possibly made those boys, all of which were older than Tom, come out looking so beaten? When Tom heard Dumbledore call the next group, he looked back and saw that the stone was back on its pedestal and the tent was gone. However, when that group touched the stone, again the tent began to ripple and form around them until it cloaked them beyond their sight and ears. Tom impatiently waited for 11 minutes before the next group came out. Similarly haggard and dirty, none of them were crying but they all looked like they needed a good night's rest before they'd be ok. Both Minerva McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore consoled them as the tent once again retreated back into the stone. Tom wanted to go up and ask them what happened but Oswald grabbed him by the arm before he could get up and shook his head when Tom tried to release his wrist.

Minerva McGonagall called Tom's group next and as they were walking down the last part of the hill, Tom heard Blink say, "If i's a figh', stay behin' me, Bellie. I ain' le'in you come ou' lookin' li' va'." Isobel smiled and whispered a response Tom didn't catch but she looked more confident than Tom thought wise. Even he was unsure of what was inside that tent but he knew it was enough to rattle two NEWT level students. When they approached the stone, Albus looked down at Tom and Tom wasn't sure what look he was giving. Was it a pity? Assurance? Doubt? Nonetheless, Albus spoke just loud enough for Tom and his group to hear, "What is inside this tent cannot harm you. It cannot kill you. Its sole aim is to test your prowess and reactions to adversity."

Madam McGonagall added, "While it is difficult beyond your current level of education, each of the groups before you have completed it. The one hint I shall give is that time does not work normally while inside. Should you be on the brink of failure, Albus or I will dispel the arena and you will be free to leave. Good luck." With that, Albus gestured for Isobel to touch the stone and as she did, the black fabric, which Tom now saw seemed to defy gravity as it flowed around them in unnatural ways, formed the tent and they vanished.

Tom closed his eyes as the tent closed itself around him and his group. He felt the fabric buffeted him with air as it took form. He felt the heat of candles ignite around him and finally opened his eyes. As Tom looked around, he saw he was alone and all that was in front of him was the stone sitting on its pedestal in the middle of the tent. The fabric of the tent ebbed and flowed from the wind outside but only the light inside were candles floating aloft every 6 feet along the tent's inner perimeter. Tom yelled out, "Blink, Isobel, Oz? Can anyone hear me?"

Silence.

His voice didn't even echo back at him. Tom began to walk around the edges of the tent and every time he tried to touch the tent, it seemed to always flow away from his fingers. It didn't matter how far he reached out his arm, it would expand away from him. When he pulled out his wand and tried to push it away with a determined casting of Ventus, nothing happened. Neither wisp nor breeze came from his wand. He looked down at his wand, puzzled, and tried again. And again. And again. Was his wand becoming like Tarquin's, losing confidence in its owner?

He tried every spell he could think of to do something, anything, inside the tent but nothing came from his wand.

"Incendio." No flames ignited.

Tom moved over to one of the candles and cast, "Engorgio." It did not expand.

"Expulso." No explosion.

"Colovaria." The tent's color didn't change even a shade.

Not one of the spells in what he thought was a vast repertoire worked inside this tent and Tom was beginning to grow angry as he whirled around and stared at the stone. It looked completely normal and as he picked it up, it felt normal too.

Tom put his wand back into his trousers and went over every segment, every imperfect edge of the stone and found nothing. It was just a normal, sedimentary rock. He threw it on the ground and desperately wracked his mind. There had to be a way out. Everyone else that came out looked like they had dug through the ground for something. Maybe there was a clue hidden in the ground. Or tried to dig their way out. Or maybe that's what kept them from succeeding earlier. Too focused on getting out of whatever was causing their magic to fail.

Tom's anger began to coarse through his body as he looked for threads in the tent, which again and again moved away from him before he could touch it. He tried to use the stone or cast any spells on it and none worked. He tried every transformation spell assigned for the challenge and again, nothing. He rolled up his sleeves and got down on his stomach as he resorted to examining every blade of grass he could find. He beat his fists into the ground, disgusted with how dumb the idea was.

Seething, Tom got up without bothering to dust off the scraps of the lawn on his clothes, and went over to the stone on its pedestal. There had to be a way to manipulate it. Albus and Madame McGonagall would not have placed it in such a central place for it to just be where the tent comes from. There had to be more. Tom thought of every possible way to influence the stone and began to let loose the tempest roaring in his body.

"Reducto!"

"Spongify."

"Depulso."

"Avad…"

Tom's vision was immediately struck by vision of intense, blinding green light. The same green light from his nightmares. A series of incoherent images flashed in his mind.

An unknown, bearded man in an overlarge, tattered coat lying at his feet.

A newspaper from 1979 with an image of an empty town on the front page.

A view from high above a densely built city on fire.

A man with long black hair and black robes standing at the edge of a cliff by the water.

Each one only flashed once and as Tom came too, he found he was on the ground, clutching the stone to his chest. Tom racked his mind, doing everything he could to remember every detail he could. The wrinkles on the man from the first image. A piece of brick shingling hanging off the edge a house from the empty town. The caved in section of what Tom knew to be the Palace of Westminster. The matte black fabric of the man in the last image's cape. Every detail mattered. He wished he had a notebook. Why did 19…

Tom's desperate attempts to memorize the visions halted as a fire had erupted near the same corner where the wind had somehow entered the tent and blew from the inside. Tom jumped to his feet and went over to try dousing the flames with a counter-charm but it didn't work. Another, more powerful gust of wind struck Tom in the chest and blew him 6 feet through the air. Tom pulled out his wand again and cast, "Finite!" in the direction the torrent came from. Nothing came out. Because of course it didn't. Tom shoved his wand, tip first, into the dirt.

Tom sat in the grass for a few minutes before he heard the stone fall with a clunk onto the pedestal. As he turned around to inspect it, Tom saw as it levitated off the pedestal and fell once again but before it fell, Tom saw some of the light from a candle behind him shine through the stone and show a different tent in the light. It was faint and blurred, but it looked different. For one, Tom thought he saw scorch marks in the grass of the image.

It was a crazy idea, Tom thought as he picked up the stone and felt it try to shoot out of his hands. As he walked over to a candle behind him, he had to hold onto it with both hands as it continued trying to escape his grasp and he held it up to the candle. Tom saw, through the now somehow see-through rock, a candle as it if were through a blue filter. An idea forced its way to the front of his mind and he moved out of the way as he continued holding the stone to the candle but allowed the light of it to shine through and cast through the stone and onto the ground. Tom saw a blue-lit image projecting out of the stone and showed the inside of a different tent. It had to have been different because the grass was ablaze and Oswald was desperately trying to shovel dirt and grass onto the fire.

Tom passed the stone over the candle, back and forth and each time he did, he watched in amazement as the projection vanished and appeared as if it were made of light itself. Tom kept the stone to the candle as he looked at his own stone, and yelled as loud as he could into it, "OSWALD. PICK UP YOUR STONE."

In the projection, Oswald jerked away as Tom's idea seemed to have worked and after a moment of hesitation he left the sight of the projection. The gears in Tom's mind began to straighten back out as he made quick assumptions and followed the path Oswald took until he was able to project exactly where the Gryffindor boy was now kneeling on the ground and yelling into the stone. Tom couldn't hear anything he was saying so he said, "Put it up to one of the candles and try again, Oz."

Puzzled but obedient, Tom watched as the projection of Oswald stood up and walked over to the nearest candle, which Tom had to reposition to the next candle to see, and began to speak into it again.

Silence.

Tom nearly threw the stone into the ground again but stopped short as he said, "Okay, as you're holding the stone up, use it to project an image onto the grass. See who yours can see. I can see you like… Like you're right in front of me but you're made of… bluish light… Or something." Oswald moved out of the way and now Tom saw as another layer of the projection appeared inside his own and he saw yet another tent. It didn't show who it was but as Tom instructed him to continue moving around Oswald finally came upon an Isobel who was holding up her own stone to a candle and projected into hers was Blink.

Blink was in the fetal position on the grass of his own tent. He was holding his own rock up to his face, which Tom could barely see was wet from the boy's tears. Isobel looked like she was softly singing to Blink through her rock. Tom couldn't hear what Oswald was saying but Isobel nearly dropped her stone when his voice seemed to come through. She frantically tried to talk back but Tom saw Oswald mouth something and she calmed down. She now lifted her own stone back up to her light, Tom's showing now 3 layers of different, smaller projections that confused his mind for a moment before he started to understand. Tom watched as the projected Isobel tested speaking into the stone when it was away from their light and with and came to the same deduction as Tom had: whatever magic enchanted the stone only worked while it was up to the light.

As Isobel held her stone up to her candle and she looked down at Blink, who was still lying in the fetal position, she said something that stirred the boy and Blink looked down at his own rock. Whatever she had said worked and Tom finally heard Blink's voice come through, "Oy, Tommy-boy, if you can hear me, tell Ozzy-lad and then tell him to tell Bellie… I mean Isobel."

Tom shook with excitement as he did exactly that and watched the chain of communication come together until he saw Isobel jump with excitement as well, losing Blink's projection as it passed the candle twice and she finally said something to Blink who then said to Tom, "Isobel says she wan's tuh run an idea by yuh be-fo she tries i' ou'. I fink i's barmier van a lawn gnome collection but' i' migh' work. Hol' for a minute."

Tom waited as he saw Isobel go into a heated description of something, using her arms to aimlessly explain whatever it was before Blink continued, "Aw'righ', Tommy-boy, she says she wan's you to tell Ozzy-lad tuh ligh' a bit of her grass on fire. Ver' was a bunch of uvvah stuff but va's vuh gist."

Tom moved closer to his stone as he said, "Alright, I think Isobel's got an idea. So, what I think she's going for is that we can each only affect someone else's tent, next in a line. I can hear Blink because he is after Isobel, who is after you. However, when we hold this stone, weird as it sounds, up to a candle it shows us what we've done. So, she wants you to light a patch of her grass on fire. Nod if you understand."

Oswald's projection nodded and he pointed to a corner far away from where he saw Isobel in his own stone's projection and it ignited. Isobel began to frantically nod as she said something that Blink passed on as, "Now she's gone a bi' more barmy and said we have tuh cast, in turn…"

Isobel continued to talk into her stone as Tom saw Blink nod and then his voice continued, "Sorry for va', she's sayin' we'll have tuh turn each-uhvuh's stone's into what Dumboo-dore said. Bu' one a' a time and each has tuh be differen'. She's sayin… Ok, she's sayin for me tuh turn mine intuh a tin man. Ven you will turn yours into vuh bee. Ven, you tell Ozzy-lad tuh turn his into a vuh bird o'par-o-dice. Ven she'll roun' i' ou' by turnin' hers intuh vuh wooden horse. Wai' one mo…"

Tom watched as Oswald began to fidget and he said into his own stone, "Sorry Oswald, Isobel is still coming up with her idea. I think she's on the right track and I'm guessing she's wondering if the next person's stone will turn into…"

Blink disappeared for half a minute as Isobel set her stone on the ground and Tom watched as she tried to cast multiple spells on it before lifting it back up to the candle. Blink was now holding his stone up to the light Tom saw his own projection in the layers of light and Blinks' voice returned, "Okay, she's go' i' down. Tommy-boy, I'm gonna turn yours intuh a tin man. Hold i' tigh'. If i' works, tell Ozzy-lad you're gonna turn his into a bee and to hol' i' tigh'. He's ven gonna turn Isobel's intuh a bir'. And ven Isobel is gonna turn mine intuh a wooden horse. I'v go'a pu' mine down to cast i'. I can' hold a movin' wooden horse. Goo' luck, Tommy-boy!"

Tom's projection inside Isobel's disappeared as they all watched Blink set his stone down on the ground, close his eyes, and then jolt them open as he cast his spell. Tom felt the stone in his hand morph in his hand until it was a slightly smaller, still rough around the edges tin soldier. Tom nearly dropped it as he cut his finger on the small rifle the soldier carried on its back. When he lifted it back up to the candle, nothing appeared and he could no longer hear Blink. Tom closed his eyes and after a few deep breaths, he put the tin soldier on the ground and, an idea popping into his head, cast a Levitation spell on it before saying, "Nigrapis Verto."

Again, no magic that came from him seemed to work. He was once again alone. He wouldn't be able to know if his spell succeeded and if it worked like Blink's had, Oswald was alone now too. The only person who would be able to see anyone was Isobel. Oswald would have seen his stone turn into a tin soldier and Isobel would have only seen Blink try to make that happen.

Tom waited for a few minutes, or what felt like minutes, as he stared at his tin soldier and wondered if Blink would try to change it. But nothing came. Not until the fabric of the tent began to shift and whirl around him like a maelstrom and Tom watched as the fabric on the 3 of its 4 sides flowed away and back into the tin man. Behind the fabric, looking desperately from one another and to him, were his teammates. Isobel tried in vain to wipe of the dirt caking her uniform and hands. Patches of grass held onto Blink's face and arms, light against the boy's sable skin. Oswald was the only one who still remained clean but his eyes wouldn't meet Tom's. Tom wondered how many, and which, of his spells affected Oswald but his thoughts cut off as he looked back and the last wall of fabric lifted as well to show Albus and Madame McGonagall standing and lightly clapping as they joined Tom in his tent.

Isobel and Blink quickly hugged and Tom slipped a five with all of them before turning to Albus, who began, "Well done. If you would all please place your stones back onto their stands, you have completed the challenge."

Tom looked to what was his tin soldier and saw it had turned back into a stone and he and the rest of his group took their stones and placed them back in their original position. As Oswald set his down last, all of the black fabric making the tent surrounding quickly flowed back into a stone behind Albus. As the sunlight hit them all, Tom watched through squinted eyes as each of the other pedestals vanished in the light and all of the damage each had caused to the other's tents faded as well.

Madame McGonagall smiled at each one of them as she shook their hands and said, "You have done well. I am especially impressed by you, Ms. Kelly. You were the fastest of all groups so far to deduce the relationship between the stone and the candle. It is a shame I did not have the pleasure of teaching you."

Isobel thanked her as they all looked out at the remaining groups on the hill. All of them looked even more nervous but there was a note of surprise on their faces as well. There would be time to talk to each of his group members later but all Tom wanted to do now was trudge up the hill and eat dinner. It felt like he hadn't eaten in days.


	7. Alio Latere Parietem

No one in Tom's group spoke as they ate dinner. Despite eating just an hour before the second challenge, they were all starved. The groups that went before them were sitting huddled around each other in different corners of the Great Hall as Tom's group sat near the middle and ate. Tom's mind raced even faster than he could shovel in scoop after scoop of lamb stew into his mouth. How long had he really been inside the tent? It can't have been as long as it felt, but Tom's mind kept returning to Minerva McGonagall's warning about how time functioned on the inside of the tent. He had never seen time manipulated using magic. Would he have known if it had affected him or his group? Did time work differently for all of them? Was that why Blink was lying on the ground as Isobel tried talking to him? McGonagall said Isobel was the first to solve it but how far ahead was she when he finally figured it out himself? And if Tom's magic only worked on Oswald's side of the tent, why did he have… Tom immediately remembered the spell he tried to cast before the visions came. Why did he even try it? What would have happened in Oswald's tent if he hadn't… What would have happened to Oswald?

Tom forced his mind away from his angered attempt at casting the Killing Curse and back to the magic of the tent. Too many questions and far too few answers flooded Tom's mind as he continued to eat in silence. He knew he would have to ask Albus before the next challenge but what unnerved him most, and what he had deduced for himself about others, was whatever magic redirected his own magic. That kind of manipulation was what excited him most. Tom was glad the challenge wasn't just to find what was blocking his magic, though that would also have been interesting. But to completely redirect it into another place, unknown to him, was devious. It was deceptive magic. It was powerful.

Isobel was the first to break their mutual silence as Tom's brain continued to whir like a plane's propeller, "That… I hated that… That was just… foul. And to impose on students. Who just began to trust… Blink, how long…"

Blink, who buried his head in his arms after he two bites of a sandwich he asked for, didn't look up as he mumbled something no one heard. Isobel got up from sitting across from him, stepped over the wooden table they sat at, and gently set a hand on Blink's shoulder as she sat down next to him. When he still wouldn't look up, she scooted closer to him and was now holding him close to her with one arm as she whispered just loud enough for Tom to hear, "You made it out, my little Bee. I swear. We all did. You were in there a long time, but now it's time to come back. Come back to me, my little Bee."

Tom, and Oswald as well he noticed, pretended not to pay attention as Blink lifted his head, previously buried in his arms, and Isobel pulled him even closer and he silently sobbed into her chest. As Isobel continued to whisper softly to him, tears crawling down her face as she held him closer, Tom and Oswald exchanged a knowing glance and nodded as they Scoured their dishes and got up to leave. They stopped as Minerva McGonagall and Albus Dumbledore walked in behind the last group. This group looked downtrodden as well. Unlike the other groups however, two of their member's clothes looked burnt and soot covered their faces. While Albus and Minerva took their seats at the elevated professor's table, Tom saw that the Slytherin girl Myrra looked especially spooked as she continuously levitated a pebble in her hand. Even as they sat down and asked the Hall for food, she cast the simple Levitation Charm again. And again. And again.

With a silent fury, Tom watched as Myrra kept going, making her spells more difficult until her group finished eating and Albus stood to address them all with a notable look of guilt Tom hadn't seen before, "Sometimes in life, our best intentions cross the ever thin line between preparation and cruelty. Today was such a day. On behalf of myself and Madame McGonagall, who's design I wrongfully felt needed amplification, I apologize. What we subjected you to, regardless of but especially ignorant of your age, was… It was horrid. I knew this challenge would best all of you. This is not to demean your remarkable, even exemplary, skills at both deduction and magical prowess, but I did not expect it to have such a defined reaction. You see, it is actually quite easy to manipulate time with magic. But to manipulate the perception of time, even within one mind let alone 4 at once, is a feat I thought impossible. But when I had succeeded, I knew it to be both a powerful resource and yet more powerful weapon.

"I, of course, did not discover this spellwork alone. It was with the help of another man like myself that I accomplished this. And this man has used it solely as a weapon in his war to ensure what he believes to be a just order of humanity under the rightful rule of wizards. It is with this fact in mind that I chose it for the second challenge. Minerva then decided that the foundation of this challenge must be trust. To establish it, when your own actions could detrimentally affect another you cannot see, hear, or feel, would be an ultimate test in empathy. One which I am most proud to say you have all passed. Upon learning of the trick to this challenge, each of you did everything you could to reduce the suffering to those your spells affected and were quick to forgive those who had affected you. It is a truly profound event, one which I myself did not predict.

"But that does not excuse the choice I made to use my… to use a weapon of torture and interrogation against you all. I am eternally thankful none of you have suffered permanent, irreparable damage. I have already asked Madame Hogbin to provide all of you small sleeping drafts to help you sleep tonight and heal your minds from any lingering pieces from the challenge.

"Because all of you were able to complete this challenge within the 30 minute time limit, I am pleased to say you will all receive full marks. I feel it would be wrong to use this event in the tally for the total competition so, while the group led by Isobel Kelly is still in the lead by 5 points from her win in the first challenge, all others are equal at 10 points apiece. Which brings me to the final challenge.

"The third and final challenge is a boat race across the Black Lake. Any and all magic that is not directly intended to harm or maim another student is allowed. Madame Picard has offered her services in teaching those of us in need how to balance whilst inside their boats and will monitor practice laps during the afternoon hours in which she is teaching, should you wish to practice further. You will have two months to prepare.

"I must now unfortunately leave you but should you need me, please inform either Madams Picard or Fortescue. If you have any questions for Madame McGonagall, she will be residing here for the night and will be leaving in the morning. Sleep well." Before anyone, including Tom, could catch him to talk, Albus left the Great Hall and the room resumed its previous silence.

When Tom turned back to his group, Isobel was now tearing up small pieces of bread for Blink, who had stopped crying midway during Albus's monologue and was slouching on the bench with his head resting backward on the table. As Isobel coaxed Blink to eat, whispering words Tom couldn't hear, Tom felt like his heart was hanging from quickly fraying cords over a bottomless pit. His hands began to sweat as he got up and without saying a word to his team, left the Great Hall for the Room of Requirement.

Tom didn't eat or sleep that night, silently laying on his side on the bare floor of the room. Though he didn't ask for it, a small fire contained within an invisible sphere appeared around midnight, according to the abnormally quiet grandfather clock in the corner of the room. His mind didn't race, but it didn't stop either. Every path it took always led back to those images. The man in ragged clothes. The city on fire, The newspaper showing a town Tom could swear he had seen before. The black haired man waiting at the tip of a cliff. Waiting for him.

When the Sun finally showed into the Room of Requirement the day after the second challenge, Tom felt his stomach grumble and mustered what he had left to go back down the grand staircase and return to where everyone was sleeping in the Great Hall. A single table was already sitting in between the male and female sides. Only one person was sitting at it, fiddling with his porridge with a spoon. Blink was wearing a pair of matching orange and black Chudley Cannons pajamas and after letting go of his spoon, he stood up and slowly walked towards Tom. When he got there, he didn't stop his momentum as he thrust his surprisingly strong arms around Tom and embraced him. Tom didn't lift his arms and Blink said just above a whisper, "Nex' time, don' leave, ma'e."

Blink's voice shook a little as he mumbled and squeezed Tom a little harder, "I's awe-righ' ma'e. No need tut hol' i' awe in. Trus' me".

But Tom didn't. How could he tell Blink he nearly cast the Killing Curse out of anger? One that could have killed Oswald. How could he tell the boy, or anyone else, what he would become? What he kept seeing in his visions and nightmares?

Just as Tom was beginning to lift his arms a little, to give Blink what he thought he wanted, Blink let go of him. His eyes a little wet, he looked at Tom with a mixture of confusion and disappointment. Tom put a hand on the boy's shoulder and said, "It didn't affect me the way it did you, Blink. Come one, let's eat. I'm starving."

Blink wiped his eyes and Tom knew something was off as he walked away and sat at the lone table. Tom hesitated before joining him and after quietly requesting it from the house elves in the room below, they shared a meal of marmalade coated crumpets, thickly sliced bacon, beans, and eggs.

After a few minutes, all the other students in the Great Hall began waking up and joined them at the table. When Isobel and Oswald woke, Isobel kissed Blink on the cheek as she sat on his other side and Oswald patted Tom on the back a couple times before sitting to Tom's right. Everyone in the room silently ate until Madame McGonagall entered the hall and announced with her hands gently clasped in front of her, "I would like the following people to please join me for a brief talk. You are not in trouble. Mr. Riddle, Mr. Crockett, Ms. Hamilton, Mr. Saunders, Mr. Wright, Mr. Hill. Mr. Payne and Ms. Wattson. When you are finished eating, please come to the lawn outside the front entrance to the castle. To the rest of you, I bid you adieu. It was a pleasure to meet you all."

Blink and Tom exchanged raised eyebrows and Tom saw Myrra, who had sat across from Oswald when she joined them for breakfast, shrugged to Oswald when she heard her name called as well. When Myrra finished her bowl of lamb stew, she whispered into Oswald's ear before leading the called group out of the Great Hall and out onto the lawn where Minerva McGonagall was waiting in one of 9 white, wooden lawn chairs and reading from a small book.

As the group approached, she beckoned them to their seats, set her book on a small cloth on the grass next to her chair, and straightened her spectacles before saying while they sat, "Thank you, all of you, for coming. This was not planned by Professor Dumbledore or I but we agreed it was necessary after yesterday's events. I have invited each of you here because during the course of the challenge, each of you had the worst experiences resulting from the magic within the tents. With your permission, and the guarantee of confidentiality between your fellows, I would like to help you all discuss what you experienced. You do not have to stay, but if you do, that is the condition. I encourage you all to take this opportunity. Trauma should never be left unresolved."

Though he didn't see it as he looked out at the Dark Forest over Myrra's left shoulder, Tom felt the flash of momentary attention from Madame McGonagall's eyes as she concluded, "Nor experienced in solitude. Would anyone like to begin?"

The wind slowly rolling over the field was the only sound for a few minutes before a young Gryffindor boy Tom didn't remember raised his hand slightly and Tom became instantly confused when McGonagall addressed them, "Yes, Ms. Wattson. What you like to say?" Tom looked around at the group, which consisted of 3 Slytherins, 3 Gryffindors, and one each from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Out of everyone in the group, only the two Gryffindors, Wright and Saunders, weren't fazed by McGonagall's use of a female pronoun instead male. Tom tried his best to inconspicuously take a closer look at the almond skinned Gryffindor, searching for any female qualities. Tom wondered if he was like Piper but then he remembered that they didn't use either pronoun. This was new. Tom didn't know anyone that used the opposite pronoun of their birth.

Wattson, with a voice slightly higher pitched than Tom's, began, "That tent was probably the worst experience of my life. Worse… Worse than…"

She had to stop as tears began to well up and McGonagall reached a consoling hand over and said, "It's alright, Noelle. Take your time. We're here."

Noelle sniffled back her strength as she resumed, "It was worse than when I told my parents I didn't want to be a boy. I never wanted to be a boy. Even when I was little, this body always felt wrong. But being in that tent, unable to see the magic I was just becoming comfortable with after 3 years. Unable to know anything but the inside. I felt like I didn't exist anymore. That nothing outside the tent existed. That I had always been inside the tent. That the letter inviting a muggle girl trapped on a farm to a world of magic was a lie my brain told itself. It was horrible. I don't even know how we completed the challenge. If it wasn't for Myrra… I don't know."

Both Myrra and the Gryffindor boy, Wright, squeezed her knees as McGonagall said, "You are here, Noelle. Your letter was true and you are at Hogwarts. And your friends are here for you. Thank you for sharing. Who would like to go next?"

Wright, whose first name was Lance, went next and told his story of trying to dig his way out of the tent. Tom saw him fidget and scratch underneath his nails as he described digging for what felt like days. With his bare hands, he dug a tunnel through the soil to the point he couldn't see the light of the tent anymore. No matter how far he went, no matter how much his hands bled, he never left his own tent. And that destroyed him.

Myrra Hamilton told her story of nearly burning one of her teammates alive when she lost control of a fire curse. She cried when she saw the scars on a Ravenclaw boy named Hector Graham's legs from where the fire had gotten him. Thankfully, they weren't serious and Madame Hogbin was able to mend the leg completely, no scars to be found.

Both Hill and Saunders were in the same group and shared their story of difficulty finding out the order of whose spells affected whom because Saunders had accidentally transformed the next person in line's stone into a flea right at the beginning of the challenge. When it came to Blink's turn, his hands were deep inside the pockets of his black trousers, tapping his leg to a rhythm Tom couldn't find, and his lips shifted around as he puzzled out how to begin.

Blink finally sat up and said, "I still don' know how long I was in vere. Madame, wha' was vuh ratio for me? How much time passed in my head rela'ive tuh Isobel's and Tommy-boy's?"

Minerva McGonagall, who had not spoken since Myrra Hamilton asked her about how the fabric of the tents functioned, answered without hesitation, "1500 to 1, Mr. Crockett. It was unfortunate that you were placed in that variation of the challenge. You were the only one higher than 700. Which happened to be yours, Mr. Riddle."

Blink scratched at his quads for a half a minute before he continued, "So, for every minute we was in vere, I had two and a half hours. An' our end time was?" He turned his head and glared at Minerva.

While her eyes didn't waver from his, Tom could tell she was holding back her own emotions as she answered, "12 minutes. While your group was first to finish, for you, it was 12 and a half days. Winky, I am so…"

Blink cut her off as he raised his voice, "So, remin' me again. I' was you and Dum-boo-dore who made vis… vis fing. You enchan'ed a tent tuh change how our min's saw time. And you… You fough' fifteen fucking hundred was acceptaboo? Wha' if Saundy over here and his lads had va', ey? Vey didn' finish wivv'in twen'y minutes. Near a munf, va' would have been. Dum-boo-dore said we was gonna ge' closer. An' closer we did become. Now we're all like Ci'y aftuh vere field go' burned while a game was goin' on. Trauma for all, va's how we bring'em togevuh, va's wha' you fough'?"

Blink's scratching was now beginning to cut into his pants as his body shook and tears slowly cascaded down his sable skinned face. Tom knew this was a moment to fix whatever he messed up with Blink before, so he copied what everyone did after Noelle's story and what Albus gave him on numerous occasions. He placed a gentle hand on Blink's knees, which he felt were thrashing against the boy's control. Blink didn't look down but Tom could feel some calm restoring as the boy continued, "If i' wasn' for Bellie singin' a song tuh me… Tuh bring me back from va' place… I nevuh would have made i'"

Minerva McGonagall's eyes were now watering as she came over with her chair to within inches of Blink's face as she consoled him, "There is not one thing Albus or I can do to reverse this, save for wiping it from your memories. But that damage will always be there. And I am so, so, sorry for not reducing the range of the spell's scope, Winky. It never should have been allowed to be that high. Our sole intention, if I may provide explanations that will no doubt fall as excuses in your ears, was to instill trust in one another. Trust is hardest to achieve when you cannot see who you affect, and who affects you. This is a truth seen every day in our world and it is a truth that has existed since our creation. Wizard or not, trust in others is never absolute."

Minerva finally let her tears fall down her face as she used a gentle hand to wipe away the ones on Blink's face and continued, "And we have broken your trust. As educators, this event has appalling. Not least of which because I helped design it. As wise as myself and Professor Dumbledore are, we did not foresee such trauma from this challenge. If there is anything… anything I can do to help you work through this, even if it involves wiping it out of your memories for good, I will do it."

Blink kept her gaze as they silently cried just inches away from each other, his face almost leaning into her gentle hand. After a few moments, he pulled back and said plainly, "I want vis spell gone for good. If it means destroyin' texts, killin' vee inventuh, wipin' brains, I wan' it done. No one should have'tuh feel va' evuh again."

Madame McGonagall sat upright, magically wiped away the tears on her face with a wave of her wand, and assented, "It shall be done. I will talk to the Ministry about striking the spell from interrogation manuals. I will speak with Professor Dumbledore and he will inform Madame Fortescue of this change. It will take time, and the co-inventor of the spell is still at large, but if I have to bring him down too to make this right, I will. You have my vow, Mr. Crockett."

Blink chuckled through a sob as he said, "Va's awe-righ' Miss, jus' call me Blink."

Minerva smiled as well and said before looking to Tom, "So it is, Blink. Now, Tom. You are the last to speak. Would you like to share?"

Tom felt everyone's eyes on him, most especially Blink's. As he sat up in his chair, Tom felt a comforting hand from Blink tap his shoulder a couple times before he said, "I… think Blink covered it. That spell… It was too powerful."

Minerva's expression changed instantly as she raised an eyebrow just long enough for Tom to notice and inquired, "Are you sure you don't want to share? Your experience was quite different from everyone else's but, you are safe here, Tom. There is no need to be…"

Tom cut in, "It's fine. Yes, it sucked not being able to have the magic I just now found out how to control. And yes, I had moments like everyone else here where I didn't know how long I was in there. But I think hearing everyone else's stories was enough, don't you?"

McGonagall sat with her arms crossed for half a minute but didn't press further and said, "Well, ok then. Thank you all for listening to me. And for telling your stories. It is only by hearing the stories of our victims that we truly understand the gravity of our decisions; remember that. If you would please, Madame Hogbin is expecting you all in the hospital wing for a pick-me-up. And I have a train to catch in an hour. It was excellent meeting you all. Good luck in the third challenge."

With that, everyone stood and Madame McGonagall shook each of their hands. When she came to shake Tom's last, she looked around and when everyone was gone, she said plainly, "Tom, It was a pleasure seeing your spellwork. I hope one day you find someone you can trust. It is incalculably better than choosing to be alone. Trust me," and she turned and left him there. Alone.


	8. Concordia Mersus

20 August, 1939

Dear Piper Nobel,

I'm not sure if the owl I sent with a return letter has reached you, but I have not seen a reply from you.

Albus's challenges took a turn to torture, much to his own and his assistant McGonagall's surprise. It was an elaborate enchantment, no doubt. I am curious to its creation and workings myself. However, its effect on the other students was immediate. He says he wanted to teach us to be mindful of the effects of our magic by redirecting evert spell to a place we couldn't perceive. A place where a teammate would be. My spells went to my teammate Oswald and so on until Blink's spells affected my part of the tent. The worst part was not being able to see the magic I performed until I did this simple, literal trick of the light with a rock that wasn't even a rock. It took a while, but my first thought was that Albus had found a way to create a room where no magic could be performed. That would have been impressive as well, especially because of how large the spaces within each tent were and to keep the enchantment up for 4 different places. This kind of magic though. To passively redirect the flow of a spell into another, space, unknown to the caster. That's magic I can't even wrap my head around. To make it even better, each individual tent was under the influence of a time spell. The kind where those inside a space perceive time at a different rate than reality or those in other tents. I'm curious how these spells would have affected you, Piper.

Albus's assistant, this woman named McGonagall, doesn't like me much. She and Albus seemed impressed by my magic but something in her eyes tells me she might also know about the duel with Tarquin. When she held this group session to talk about everything that happened in the tents, she wouldn't stop looking at me when I didn't want to talk. Nothing weird happened to me. I got mad that I couldn't cast any spells or touch the fabric of the tent, but it wasn't anything like the others. A Gryffindor

Tom paused as he looked down at the letter he was slowly writing at a desk in the main library. He woke early that morning to write the letter before his group would head down to the lake for Albus Dumbledore's final challenge. But now he was stuck. What did he want to call that Gryffindor from the discussion McGonagall held all those days ago? He didn't understand. Although he was already used to Piper's rejection of gender dichotomy, he had never known someone of one gender to become the other. As he puzzled through it all for half an hour, he didn't notice Blink lean over his shoulder with one hand on the table and read the note. With a snicker, Blink vaulted over the table, grabbing a scone from the platter while he did, and sat on the opposite side of Tom.

When Tom finally looked up, Blink smiled and said in between bites, "Just 'er an 'er, Tommy-boy. Ain' nuffin wrong wiv it. Or are yuh…"

Tom fake smiled back and replied, "No I… I just haven't met… I haven't met someone like…"

"Her," Blink finished for him, crumbs falling out of his mouth and onto the table.

"Keep it in your mouth or it becomes a cactus in your throat, Crockett," Madame Fortescue commanded as she thumbed to the next page of the giant tome she had splayed wide on her desk amongst many others of varied size.

Tom laughed a little before his thoughts returned to the Gryffindor and he said, "Her. I just haven't met one…"

Blink looked sideways to his right at Madame Fortescue as he made a show of swallowing the last of the blueberry scones from the platter and coughed before he could say, "Oh come on, Tommy-boy. You're quick tuh bi'e off Sluggy and Ro-doof's heads for callin' va' change-uh a girl bu' yuh can' wrap va' big ol' nog aroun' someone wan'in tuh do i' permanen' like? I faw' you was savvy."

Tom began to feel heat rise in him as he snapped, "Look, I just haven't met someone like them. Alright? And Piper's my best friend. How do you even…"

Blink leaned forward a little as he said, "Awe-righ', Awe-righ'. Don' ge' in a paddy, Tommy-boy. I on'y mean' I'm suh-prised you weren'… You know… Par' of i' all. Mos' don' ge' i'."

Tom slowly unclenched his fists and the rest of his body followed suit as he asked, "I'm more surprised about you, Blink. I didn't think…"

Blink chuckled, "Va' I would be awe'righ wiv a boy wan'in tu be a girl? I ge' i'. Naw' many ge' i'. I on'y know abou' i' because vee pub I grew up in had a molly on top of i'. We…"

Though the to two boys didn't notice, Madame Fortescue stopped reading from her tome and was now sipping from a large cup of tea as she listened in and Tom cut in, "Wait… What's a molly?"

Blink shunted himself back and craned his neck back a little as he said in confusion, "You don' know wha'… Grows up in London Town and don' even… Tommy-boy… Are you tellin' me you've nevuh seen a molly before? Din' yuh ever wanduh vuh stree's a' nigh'?"

Tom leaned forward and said, "I mean, yeah, but I've never heard of a molly."

Blink replied, "Yuh've gu'ed me, Tommy-boy. Truly shivved me righ' in me 'eart." He sighed deep and continued, "My swee' inn-y-cen' lad. A Molly is place where… well… A place where men can be… friendly… togevvuh. Like…" Blink paused and looked over to Madame Fortescue, who didn't turn away as he met her gaze and said, "For'y, I fink Tommy-boy don' know vee essen-shoos. May I…"

"Only this once, Crockett," Madame Fortescue replied after a quick flick of her wand and every portrait in the vicinity of Blink and Tom's table was covered by a black fabric.

Blink blinked at her and continued, "Look, Tommy-boy, I'm no' gonna give yuh vuh foo' talk, bu' in London you ge' sen' to vuh chokey if vey even fink for a secon' you're a queenie. Ge' i'? Men and women, in vee eyes of vuh crown, ain' mean' tuh seek pleasures wiv'in. Two men can' love each-uvuh. So, mollies are where vey can do va'. Women too. And mixes. I ain' one, but we had plen'y o' pee-po seekin' one of vere own a' Ol' Red."

Tom sat back as he asked, taking small sip of his pumpkin juice, "So, like two men could be together there? At a molly? You're telling me that above a pub for fans of Liverpool football there is a place for…"

Blink laughed, "Bes' place for i', if you fink abou' i'. I mean, mos' chaps va' come to ge' a pin' don' know. An' I won' tell who, bu' a few Livuhpoo' foo'balluhs vemselves frequen' our upstairs too. Can' well do i' anywhere else, now can' vey? Anyway, back tuh my poin'. If you can accep' Piper, i' don' make sense not tuh do vuh same for Noelle."

Tom looked back down at his letter, still unsure if he understood whatever point Blink was trying to make, but he nodded and Blink said, "Finish va' up quick. Iz wan's tuh go ovuh our roles for vuh race again."

Tom smirked as he said, "You mean Bellie?" Madame Fortescue spewed a little of her tea and quickly cast a Scouring charm to get it off an open tome in front of her. Blink punched Tom a little too hard but smiled to himself as he left. Tom smiled as well as he returned to his letter and finished:

A Gryffindor Girl named Noelle had a pretty bad experience. I don't think she was comfortable with her magic yet. The enchantments of the tent must have rattled her because she shook quite a bit when she told us her story. Blink probably had it the worst, though. During the 12 minutes we had before we beat it, Blink experienced twelve days. He was furious at that McGonagall woman. Made her swear to make sure that spell wasn't taught ever again. I'm not sure if I agree. It could be pretty useful. What do you think?

Tarquin better be treating you well. I'll see you when term starts; I've got a boat race to win.

Cheers,

T. Riddle

P.s: What do yo think of me signing off like that? Tom is just so… Plain.

Perusing the letter a few times to make sure he didn't make any mistakes and to check the length of the parchment, Tom rolled up his letter and was about to exit the library before Madame Fortescue said, "Would you like me to take that to the Owlery? I'm headed up there myself. Lots of new goodies to add to my collection."

Tom hesitated, holding the letter close to his chest, and answered while holding it to her, "Uh… yeah. Sure. Just make sure it's a good owl. I don't think they got my last one."

Madame Fortescue's eyebrow raised as she inquired, rotating Tom's letter around in her hands, "Where's it headed?" Tom replied immediately, "My friend Piper. She lives in Godr…"

"Be careful whom you tell, Riddle. Their family isn't in hiding for no reason. I shall send it with my personal owl. Not a bird in England can catch my Percival. He'll get it to them." Tom walked silently side by side with Madame Fortescue until they reached the Great Hall and he thanked her for making sure the letter was safe. She bid him good luck in the last challenge and turned to walk toward the West tower. As Tom entered the Great Hall, he saw the other groups huddled up in sections of the same long table that had been there since the end of the second challenge.

Over the past couple of months, no one had objected to having only one table instead of the regular four. On the contrary, Tom being the exception, all of the other groups had become more friendly with each other and Tom's group was often joined for breakfast by members of other groups. Myrra was the most common, thanks to whatever was brewing between her and Oswald. Blink japed about them often and had given Myrra the friendly nickname 'Mordred'.

But others joined their table as well. Noelle joined them a few days prior to talk in whispers to Blink. Isobel and the boy Saunders, who's first name Tom finally learned was Edmund, or Ed as he insisted, got into a heated debate a week after the second challenge regarding the proper pronunciation of the Mermish word for wake. Tom didn't understand any of it and he and Blink both plugged their ears whenever they spoke the audibly grating language.

Today however, each group was huddled in isolation. Tom's group stood just in front of the professor's table at the very back of the hall. While Blink braced himself with both arms behind him on the large table, Isobel mimed something with her arms that Tom couldn't piece together until he came close enough to catch the end of her explanation.

With her hand flat and gliding in a curve along an invisible boundary, Isobel said, "If we have to, we use the waves of our boat to take out theirs. You can easily cast a water spell to make them even bigger, Oz. I…" She turned and smiled a little as she saw Tom coming up to them and continued, "As long as two of us keep up a steady wind jinx, we shouldn't lose our lead."

Tom nodded as he sat on the edge of the bench and said with his hands clasped, "Iz, Albus said we can use any spell so long as we don't mean to harm anyone. Between the two of us, we'll be fine."

Blink nudged Tom and Oz smirked as he said, "So says the second year."

Tom japed back, "So says the one without a win to date." He turned around and found Myrra in the crowd and yelled, "Mordred, what's our record?"

Myrra smiled at Tom and then looked to Oswald with a smile of pity as she replied, "You're still down 13-nill, love." Oswald smacked the side of Tom's left bicep and everyone in his and the adjacent group laughed.

Their most recent duel took place not ten feet from where they were now the previous night. Oswald almost won but Tom hurled himself underneath the headmaster Armando Dippet's tall throne and cast a powerful Disarming charm at Oswald's chest from below, sending the boy flying back into a set of cushions Isobel conjured at just the right moment. Unfortunately for them both, Albus and Madame Picard walked in as Oswald hit the cushions and they were both forced to non-magically scrub down the entire professor's table and its 13 chairs.

Oswald puffed his chest as he climbed on top of the table and looked up to Myrra as he affirmed, "I shall win one for you yet, my dearest. This knave shall rue the day he…"

Before Oswald could finish, Albus Dumbledore and Madams Picard, Fortescue, and Hogbin walked into the hall. Albus smiled at them all, stopping for a moment to wink at Tom, before he addressed them, "If you would all follow me. It is time for the third and final challenge." Oswald looked back down to Tom and held out his hand, palm facing up. Tom smiled as he slipped Oswald five and helped him hop down from the table. He and the rest of the groups filed out of the Great Hall and followed Professor Dumbledore out onto the grounds of Hogwarts.

Tom squinted as the early morning sun shown into his eyes and he barely saw Dumbledore wordlessly conjure a black and purple umbrella from nothing. A few of the 7th years ahead of him, Isobel included, did the same. Isobel was the only one to do so non-verbally, conjuring a blue and bronze parasol that defied gravity as it slowly floated down to her open hand. However, their fruits became obsolete as they took the long way around the Quidditch pitch and they entered the long shadow of the inner perimeter wall surrounding the grounds of Hogwarts. Tom had only seen it once, on the West end of the grounds by the station the Hogwarts Express arrived at nearly a year ago, but it seemed even more imposing now, seeing it in daylight.

While most of the students were whispering plans as they continued their long, downhill walk, Blink was the only one with his attention elsewhere. Tom looked back at him and saw him walking backwards, his eyes fixated on the slowly shrinking and disappearing Quidditch Pitch. It wasn't until it was fully behind the sloping hill down to the lake that he turned back around and met Tom's eyes and a brief flash of memory struck Tom. It didn't impact him like his nightmares or the flashes of green from the tent. Nor was it pleasant. He didn't feel anything.

But seeing Blink's face, long but neutral, his eyes drooped with a slight sheen of mixed sadness and nostalgia, reminded Tom of Mrs. Martha. She would sit on the edge of the front steps of Wool's Orphanage as she waited, her hands wringing while clutching her harmonica, for the postman to drop off the post. He saw this scene play out many times from his favorite spot: in a chair by the circular window above the buildings outer pediment. Each time, he saw Martha jump up, the soft curls in her dirty blonde bob springing up and down as she trotted to the edge of the always closed gate, and begin playing a new song she had written for the young postman. When the postman would smile and wave her goodbye, he would see the same face he saw on Blink now.

It was this face that made him want to take her harmonica when he did. He hated that she had someone on the outside. She wasn't trapped there like he was. Woefully, blissfully ignorant to the realities of the world. Rapunzel and her prince at the gates that kept London out. The gates that kept him in.

He took her harmonica to watch her face change. In the weeks before he met Dumbledore, he numbly watched her sulk on those same steps. It didn't matter how much the postman stroked the tears away from her face. Consoled her. Whispered aimless, futile promises to her. She always sulked back inside. Tom reveled in her pain in those days before Dumbledore.

But now, seeing the longing on Blink gave him a different feeling. He didn't want to take it away. Tom smiled at Blink as he stated, "This is the year, Blink. No keeper stands a chance this time. You're name is gonna go on that placard in the trophy room. You're going to be the one to raise that trophy. You're gonna smirk down at the Gryffindors from your broom. And I'm going to be there to see you do it."

Blink stopped in his tracks, the wind rustling the boy's unbuttoned, untucked dress shirt. He kept Tom's gaze for a few moments before smirking and tapping Tom on the shoulder twice as he strolled past and said, "Where was va' Tom two munfs ago?"

Tom didn't turn around for a few moments, unsure of what to think. He didn't know Blink still thought about the hesitated hug. Or was he referring to the talk he refrained from contributing to? Tom's mind muddled as he caught up with the rest of his group and Blink grabbed him around the shoulders and bragged loudly to anyone within earshot, "Le' i' be known va' i' was I, Blinkus vuh Bonkers va' broke vuh min' of Tommy-boy."

Tom didn't smile as a few people ahead of him, and Oswald and Isobel, snickered at both him and Blink before the moment passed and Blink let him go. Tom distanced himself a little but Blink came right back up to him, hands deep in his trousers, and said, "Sorry bou' va'. Bof' I mean. I know yuh don' ge' vuh emotion-oo stuff jus' ye'. An' me rubbin' i' in prolly din' help eye-vuh. Thaw' I'd give us a laugh before huh challenge, righ? Anyway, fanks for wha' yuh said. I know you was well meanin' and wha' no'. Nex' time I hug yuh, you be'a put vem arms up or I'm gonna curse 'em off." Blink held out his hand with a wide smile, which Tom barely returned with a feigned one of his own, and slipped him five as they rounded the lake and joined the other groups in looking at the far shore where 4 boats were waiting for them.

After following the perimeter of the lake for a while, they finally came upon the shore. Slightly larger than the boats Madame Picard took the first years in across the Black Lake on Tom's first day at Hogwarts, each one was identical and were loosely tethered by a rope to stakes buried in the sand. When each group was in their own boat, Madame Picard magically levitated the stakes out of the rocky sand and set them to drift slightly. Dumbledore walked in front of them all, his robes remaining dry as he took relaxed but determined steps out onto the lake and said, his hands clasped behind his back, "This is the third and final challenge. The objective is quite simple: the first to reach the bottom of that cliff…" He turned slightly to point at the very bottom of the cliff holding Hogwarts Castle high above the lake before continuing, "…Shall win this competition and receive not only a large selection of candies and treats from my personal favorite Sugarplum, but also have each of their books and supplies paid for the entire year. Quite the winnings, if I say so myself. The rules are simple. The boat must maintain contact with the lake and spells cast with the intent to harm the bodies of another group will result in immediate disqualification. At the sound of the spark, Ms. Kelly's group shall go first with a head start of 15 seconds."

Albus strode back behind them once again as everyone fixed their eyes on potential paths to take to get to the cliff. Tom exchanged a glance with Isobel and they both prepared their wands, pointing at the water at an angle to the water. Oswald took control of the rudder while Blink opened even more of his shirt and pounded on his noticeably muscular chest as he bellowed, "FOR VUH REDS!"

Albus chuckled as he stepped back on the gravelly beach, winked at Tom, and lifted his wand to cast a simple set of red sparks 20 feet in the air.

As soon as she heard the crack, Isobel shouted, "GO!"

Just out of sync, Tom and Isobel cast into the water, "Ventus Maximus!". They both nearly fell back onto the boat by the force of their spells and their craft shot forward as their wands shot forceful wind into the water. If not for a swift, too swift for all but Albus Dumbledore to see, and wordless conjuration of a dome of protection by Madame Fortescue, a massive wave of water would have drenched all left on the beach and in their boats. Albus smirked in her direction before directing his attention back to Tom's boat, which was now bouncing and racing across the lake towards the cliff.

Over the loud crashes of their boat bouncing off the water and the forceful wind propelling them forward, Oswald yelled as he watched their rear with a magically conjured spyglass, "The rest of the groups are starting. Looks like Myrra's group is ahead of their pack. She's got 3 people cas… BRACE FOR IM…"

A huge ball of water nearly capsized their ship as it fell like a meteor into the Black Lake a few meters behind their boat. Isobel's concentration broke for a moment and she recast her Wind jinx, jostling them all again as their boat resumed its previous speed. Over the cacophony, she yelled, "Blink, some cover please. Oswald, return fire!"

With one hand holding the rudder in place, Blink looked skyward and flourished his wand as he cast, "Protego Totalum."

Oswald tried in vane to recast the spell he used to conjure a spyglass and Isobel looked back at him as she bellowed, "GET YOUR HEAD BACK, OZ! Myrra won't miss again!"

Oswald shook his head and, carefully aiming his wand ahead of Myrra's boat, now within 50 meters of them, he stuttered against the force of the lake hitting their boat as he cast, "Her… Merlin's left…Herbivicus!"

His spell had the intended effect, but not on Myrra's quickly approaching boat. Instead, the sickly green beam sailed over their boat and like the tentacles of an octopus, a swarm of lively kelp strands reached up from the lake and captured the boat behind Myrra's. Myrra, after ducking under the spell, looked back up with a wild smirk and yelled her own commands over the roaring water.

Tom yelled up to Oswald and said, "Trade me. I'll deal with this." Disgruntled but affirming, Oswald nodded and cast his own wind jinx. Tom looked down to his feet and cast, "Colloshoo," before looking out over the lake to survey their opponents. Myrra's group was far in the lead of the rear pack while the other two were deep in an intense duel for third place. Tom watched as spells of all colors of the rainbow exploded and collided in mid-air over the lake behind Myrra, who met Tom's gaze as she raised her own wand and wordlessly sent a bolt of silver at an angle into the sky above him. Tom watched with a smile as the spell continued on its trajectory far above them and he looked back to give her a shrug. But he felt a pit open in his stomach as she replied by gesturing up with her right pointer finger and Tom looked up just in time to see the bolt explode and a thousand smaller bolts rain like shrapnel down from the sky.

Tom yelled, "BLINK!" and the boy looked up too and he screwed up his face as the bolts bombarded his shield. The bombardment began to break their protection and temporarily deafened Tom when one hit it just above Tom's head. The shield finally crumbled under the onslaught and the last few bolts shot into and through their boat, sending up small spouts of water from below and filling their boat.

Oswald broke his Wind Jinx and immediately cast, "Reparo" on the two punctures while Blink cursed loudly and cast a Hot Air Charm, sending the little water in their boat back into the lake.

His feet still stuck to the boat, Tom, now flushed with anger, raised his wand at the quickly gaining Myrra and bellowed, "BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"

A jet of white light shot out of Tom's wand and hit the water just under Myrra's boat and for a moment, the girl smirked at his apparent miss. Then she heard the water from under her explode and both Isobel and Tom watched as Myrra and the rest of her group were sent flying 30 feet upward as their boat exploded from the force of the spell. From an unseen source, another jet of white shot from far beyond Tom's sight and exploded underneath Myrra's group as they fell towards the water. Whatever the spell was, Tom didn't know, but he looked in awe as its effect slowed all of their falls at once and they gingerly fell like feathers to the lake as the last remaining boat from the rear pack sped past underneath. Over the loud waves, Blink yelled, "Maybe we don' kill Ozzy-lad's girl, eh Tommy?"

While Oswald retook his position at the back of the boat and resumed his Wind Jinx, Isobel dispelled hers, conjured a spyglass of her own, and said as soon as she held it up to her left eye, " That's Saunders. They'll get us soon. Tom, get back on the wind. You'll disqualify us if you do that again."

Huffing and puffing, Tom grunted as he dispelled his Sticking Charm and joined Oswald, who didn't look at him as the former resumed his Wind Jinx.

Aside from the violent crashes of their boat against the choppy Black Lake, the race was relatively calm as Tom and his group did what they could to keep their quickly diminishing lead in front of Saunders's group's boat. No spells, offensive or defensive, were cast between them for nearly a minute.

Tom, keeping a close watch on everyone in the last boat, watched as Saunders, who was sitting with his eyes closed on a bench near the back, stood up and with a balance and calm that surprised Tom, walked to the front of his boat. With one last step, Saunders raised bare foot on the elevated edge of the boat and bellowed as loud as he could. His group joined him and Tom watched in awe as their battle cry increased the power of their wind spells and now they were gaining on Tom's group even quicker.

50 meters turned into 20, and then to 10 faster than Tom could anticipate and he fumbled with his wand as Blink smacked him in the back and yelled, "COME ON, TOMMY. GET YOUR HEAD…"

That was the last thing Tom heard as he turned his head at just the wrong moment. The last thing he saw was Saunders sending a bolt of bright red light right at his head. The last thing he felt was the impact of a powerful Stunning Spell hitting him right between the eyes.

Tom didn't feel anything more as Blink, Isobel, and Oswald watched their teammate's unconscious body fly 10 meters through the air and crash into the lake ahead of their speeding boat.

Tom didn't feel himself sinking into the depths of the Black Lake.

He didn't feel the intense cold of its waters.

He didn't feel the slimy, tendril-like kelp surround him as it met him halfway down.

He didn't hear the Mermish murmurs as a small group of mermaids watched with pointed tridents as he plunged even further down.

He didn't see them scatter as an unknown mass quickly approached him.

He didn't feel the iridescently blue, green, and purple tentacle catch and cradle his body just before his head would have hit the rocky floor of the Black Lake.

He didn't hear the low moans of the beast as it brought him closer.

He didn't see its massive, singular eye open as it looked at the helpless body in it's grasp.

The first thing Tom experienced was a massive, psychic migraine flood his brain as the Giant Squid gently clutching him brought another of its tentacles up and gently pressed its tip to Tom's forehead.

Tom's eyes burst open, but he didn't see any of what surrounded his body. Instead, he, rather his mind, saw flashes of images. Similar and yet different to the visions that plagued him since he first met Albus Dumbledore, Tom was powerless to stop the rush of information entering his mind.

The body of the Billy Stubb's rabbit slowly rotating in mid-air as he held his hand out.

A shark quickly approaching from ahead with the horrifying, baleful moans of an unknown source.

A massive fire erupting from his extended wand as it magically repaired along desk.

A group of menacing, scaled humanoids with large fins instead of legs angrily gesturing with long tridents at a gigantic, iridescently blue, purple, and green squid as it rushed at them.

A young boy with flowing red hair falling down a massive tower as he held his hand out to catch him, far out of reach.

A young, auburn haired boy carrying him as he walked towards the edge of a massive lake.

The images stopped just as sudden as they started and Tom took his first breath in 10 minutes as the Giant Squid lifted his body to the surface of the Black Lake and he faded away once again.


	9. Noster Nostri

A soft female voice gently pulled Tom Riddle from his slumber. He could hear her alto vocals but couldn't understand a word of what she sang. His eyelids were too heavy to lift, the sheets of whatever bed he was in like an enveloping shackle across his body. Everything was too heavy. Even his legs felt weak against the gravity holding him down.

In the background, far beyond the female voice, was another female voice. One he knew. Higher pitched, grating, but kind. "…but not too much now, Ms. Woode. The Dittany will spread itself over the wou…"

Tom faded out again, the unknown lyrics to the female's song the last thing on his mind.

A more forceful touch awakened him for the second time. Someone was pulling his eyelids open. A blindingly bright light shifted left and right across his eyes and his face involuntarily winced away from it. Something pricked at his toes and he moaned against the sharp pain that surged up his leg and vibrated at his hips, just below the spine.

"He's responding to stimulus, Madame Hogbin, but all I can get out of the mudblo…"

Tom heard a thwack of unknown origin disrupt the female speaking nearby and felt the person's hand reacting to catch themselves on his chest, forcing him to cough as it depressed his ribs a little too far. The weight of his eyes felt lighter but he still had to fight to open them as a voice he knew to be Madame Hogbin screeched, "Not in my wing you don't, Ms. Woode. Do it again and consider your time here concluded and points taken. A fine start to term indeed."

Her voice failing to hide the pain, Tom heard Artemis Woode grunt, "Fine. Yes, Madame." Under her breath but just loud enough for him to hear, she continued, "Old bat. Maybe Apollo was right. This place is…"

Tom forced out another cough to interrupt her as he clenched every muscle he could and finally, slowly, opened his eyes. He could finally see the ceiling fan of the Hospital Wing. He looked down and saw the familiar white sheets of the bed. The bare wire frames. He moaned as he turned his head to the right and saw Artemis Woode sitting in a small wooden chair. Using her wand like a quill, she doodled on a piece of paper attached to a clipboard.

For half a minute, Tom laid there silently and watched her. While one of her legs bounced to the rhythm, she hummed a soft song as she continued to draw. For only a moment, he wondered if she was the same voice as the one in what must have been a dream but the tone was different. Artemis's voice was much higher pitched than the unknown song he thought he heard. Did he wake up before? It felt like he did but now he was unsure.

When she filled the page, Artemis looked over her shoulder and quietly conjured a small stack of papers that landed on the edge of his bed, just next to his right hand under the blanket. She smiled as she clipped another sheet of parchment to the clipboard and continued drawing with her wand.

Something about her focus warmed Tom's chest and a smile forced its way onto his face as he mumbled, "I didn't think you could smile without a smirk, Woode. What song is…"

Artemis nearly dropped her clipboard and wand at the sound of his voice. Her chair thudded against the bed behind her as she pushed away from him. Her chest rose and fell quickly as she caught her breath and said, her trademark smirk returning as she looked down at him with her heterochromatic brown and electric blue eyes, "And here I thought I'd have good news for the gang. Avery bet you wouldn't make it out of your slumber. Lestrange hoped you'd soil yourself but it seems he didn't win either."

Tom eyes struggled to focus as he met hers, his chest still a little warm as he asked, "What song were you humming while you drew? It was nice."

Artemis blushed a little as her smirk dropped and so did the clipboard as she tried to hide it behind her back but it instead clashed against the frame of her chair and clattered to the ground. The papers scattered on the floor and caught Madame Hogbin's attention. Turning around to face them from her desk near the entrance to the Hospital Wing, her voice boomed, "Ms. Woode, if I find Mr. Riddle has another phallus drawn on his forehead, I will take another 20 points. Either take notes of his progress or leave the boy be."

Tom chuckled as he looked down to her picking up her clipboard and parchment, "Did I make a good canvas, Artemis?"

After retaking her seat next to his bed and straightening her slightly unbuttoned dress shirt and green and silver Slytherin bow-tie, Artemis smirked and poked him playfully in the head as she replied, "If only I had sneaked in a camera, Riddle. I'd show you my masterpieces. A better muse, there has never been."

Tom tried and failed to bat away her wand but conceded as he instead chose to sit up a little and reposition the pillow behind his back instead as he japed, "Are you going to tell me the song or not? Or is a blush and fluster all you can muster?"

Artemis narrowed her eyes at him as she slouched in her chair and responded curtly, "It's just a jazz tune I heard while I was in America over the summer holiday. None of your concern, Riddle. Madame…" She raised her voice as she looked over her shoulder and continued, "Mr. Riddle is awake and responsive."

Madame Hogbin turned around from leaning on the front of her desk and smiled as she set down the parchment she was reading. After clapping her hands twice and walking over to his bed, she sat on the bed behind Artemis and joked, "I would prefer this to be the last time you come to my Hospital Wing unconscious, Mr. Riddle. Surely once was enough. How's the head?"

Tom feigned a smile in return as he rebutted, "Aside from being the canvas for a vindictive female, I think it is okay. How did I get here? I don't…"

Tom thought hard but couldn't remember much from the third challenge. He saw Myrra's boat explode underneath her group. He saw Saunders with his wand extended. The red bolt flying towards him. The harder Tom thought, the more a steady pain in his mind grew as flashes of images interjected his memory. He felt a sudden cold touch his skin. Envelop it. Like a freezing bath.

He saw the kind face of an auburn haired boy as if he was being carried in the boy's arms.

Like a photo taken by his own eyes, he saw Tarquin falling away away from him again as he plunged down the tower of the Grand Staircase.

His memory was too blurred to remember the rest. But something felt off. Did he fall into…

"I think he's gone again, Madame," Artemis Woode interrupted his thoughts as she tapped his head with her wand again."

Madame Hogbin thwacked Artemis in the shoulder with a few rolled up sheets of parchment and said curtly, "Perhaps the supplies should be counted again, Ms Woode. If you please."

Artemis sneered as she took the hint and made an obscene gesture with her left hand in the air as she walked out of Madame Hogbin's sight. Madame Hogbin took her seat and conjured a clipboard of her own and asked, "You're not as bad off as the stunt you pulled last term but a stunner to the head and drowning don't do the body much good, either. What can you remember? Anything from when you were under the water?"

Tom felt the cold sensation enveloping him grow and then subside completely as he shook it off and responded, "I… I didn't know I drowned. All I remember is seeing the light from the spell and… and… I mean… I must have been dreaming…"

Madame Hogbin, her clipboard hovering in air as a quill took vigorous notes, leaned forward and said, "Enlighten me."

Tom put on his best disguise and answered, "It was nothing. I think I woke up a few times in here and thought I was dreaming. I heard someone… A girl,I think. I heard her singing but I can't remember the words. I didn't understand them then either. She… Does anyone else…"

Madame Hogbin looked at him hard but let the moment pass as she replied, "I have two assistants, possibly three if they can shape up, this year. Ms. Woode, as you are now aware. And Ms. Wolfe. She attempted a ritual from her culture to bring you back, but it didn't take. I was curious, no doubt, but not surprised when it didn't work. Perhaps that is the singing you speak of. Your friend, Nobel, has made repea…"

Tom lurched up in his bed as he cut her off, "Piper came to see me? When? How long have I been out this time? The challenge was only…"

Madame Hogbin gestured him back under his blankets as she calmly explained, "Only a few days this time. You missed the feast and first day, but nothing more. Professor Dumbledore insisted if you didn't wake before the weekend to force you up. Never seen the man so serious."

Some warmth reentered Tom's chest and extremities as he thought about both Piper and Albus. Did Piper get his letter? If so, which one? Did his team win the race? Did Dumbledore call it off? How did he make it out of the lake if he drowned?

Tom shook off the questions as he looked around for his wand but didn't see it. Was it still in the lake?

Madame Hogbin urged him back down as she consoled him, "If you're looking for your possessions, I believe Mr. Crockett has them. The boy dove in after Ms. Kelly and Mr. Friedrichson got you back onto the boat. Wouldn't leave the lake even after Professor Dumbledore disqualified both your teams. Sai…"

Tom cut her off again, "What do you mean, disqualified us both? I'm not the one that…"

Madame Hogbin now cut him off with a stern look and bopped him on the foot with her rolled up parchment as she grunted, "Manners when another is speaking, boy. Now… Yes, Mr. Saunders was disqualified for the Stunner. But you were not innocent yourself, Mr. Riddle. I don't believe exploding Ms. Wattson's boat counts as a non-violent use of spellwork. The fright not included, the splinters from the boat's shrapnel took me a full night to remove from her group."

Tom sunk into his bed as he grumbled, "How else did he want us to win?"

Madame Hogbin smirked as she said, "I'm sure he expected more creativity from a group of students of high intelligence. Despite just undergoing a challenge on transfiguration spells, not one of you children attempted to transform the opponent's boats. Indeed, exemplary, even remarkable, magic was performed. But creative? It was not. Anyone can explode a boat, Riddle. It takes a great mind to win without harming another."

Tom didn't let her words penetrate his thoughts as he immediately asked, "When can I leave and go to classes? I don't want to fall behind again."

Madame Hogbin stood from her chair after raising an eyebrow at him and said as she turned to return to her desk, "If you rest and eat well throughout the day, on the morrow, Mr. Riddle. I have your schedule here."

She mumbled an incantation as she picked up a piece of parchment from her desk. As soon as she blew on it, Tom watched with an impressed smile as it folded itself into a butterfly and flapped its way over to him. It landed on his nose to slowly flap for a couple seconds before the enchantment ended and the flat parchment landed in his lap. Tom looked down with immediate confusion and excitement at his class schedule for the term.

Monday

Double Defense Against the Dark Arts with Hufflepuff

Potions with Ravenclaw

Lunch

Internship in Hospital Wing

Tuesday

Herbology with Gryffindor

Double Potions with Ravenclaw

Lunch

Defense Against the Dark Arts with Hufflepuff

Wednesday

Double History of Magic with Ravenclaw

Lunch

Double Transfiguration with Ravenclaw

Thursday

Double Charms with Gryffindor

Internship in Hospital Wing

Transfiguration with Ravenclaw

Herbology with Gryffindor

Friday

Charms with Gryffindor

Lunch

Astronomy with Gryffindor

Internship in Hospital Wing

He read it over a few times, stopping on multiple occasions to revel in finally having classes with Ravenclaw, and saw the three instances of internships. Tom quickly thought up a reason but before he could raise his voice, Madame Hogbin beamed at him and raised her own, "You still have the week to reject my offer, but we would be happy to have you, Riddle. Recommendations for this position may only come from staff members, and you got ones from 3. Not the most I have seen from a student, but definitely the most for a second year. Your contemporary, Ms. Wolfe, received two herself and has already started. Your first day, your acceptance permitting, would be in two days. I will go over your duties and my expectations then."

Tom pondered the thought of working in the hospital for a while, just sitting in his bed with the parchment in his lap. It would be with Tula, and based on her presence and relationship with Madame Hogbin, Artemis Woode as well. Her playful behavior surprised him and his thoughts turned in an unsuspected direction: he wished she had been this way last year when they met. Tom looked up from his new schedule to ask, "How long has Artemis been an intern?"

With an inquisitive eyebrow raise but without looking up from a thick tome she pulled from her desk, Madame Hogbin answered, "She is a 4th year now, so a year. She's rough around the edges but she knows her herbs and remedies. Not a bad witch either. If only her brother were so gifted. I'd like the set."

Tom set the schedule aside and did his best to start one of many laps around the Hospital Wing, which he did mostly unassisted. Artemis entered the room a half hour later and proceeded to make fun of him by summoning a cane from the supply closet and follow him while yelling in her best impression of an elderly woman. Tom nearly collapsed with laughter at one point but Artemis was right there to catch him from behind with a surprisingly gentle touch. As she helped him up, Tom looked to Ms Hogbin, who pretended not to eye them with intrigue over her tome, and asked, "What about my books and supplies? I've missed the time to go to Diagon Alley."

Artemis spoke up and answered, "Dumble-bore…"

Madame Hogbin loudly cleared her throat.

Artemis sighed and restarted, emphasizing the first word with overflowing sarcasm "Dumbledore brought them to the common room for you last night. Crocky went up and put them in your trunk. Speaking of which…" She set Tom down in a padded chair, which he was thankful for as his tongue searched in vain for any semblance of moisture, and brought him a cup of water as she continued, "… Here… So, how do you know the Crock-pot and what do you know about him and dearest Ms. Kelly? I heard you and a few other orphans were allowed to stay at school for the summer. I have vested interests in Kelly."

Tom's thoughts took him to the last thing Blink said to him before the third challenge and he lied with his best poker face, "I wouldn't know. We mostly stuck to working on potions and spells."

The eyebrow above Artemis's electric blue eye raised as she helped him get down a large gulp of water. After setting the cup down, Tom raised an eyebrow of his own and inquired, "Why Kelly? Why's she an interest of someone like you? She isn't from a wealthy, pure-blood family that I know of. She isn't a git like the friends you keep. She's…"

A vein around Artemis's temple visibly bulged for a moment before she sighed deep with a hidden glance to Madame Hogbin and whispered back, "My dad's an Auror. He just wants to know what she's like. He knows I can…"

Artemis's face was so close he could smell her faint perfume. The mint on her breath. He could see the small yellow imperfections in her blue eye that he would never have noticed if not for their proximity. The small scars above both of her eyebrows. She gently cupped Tom's chin and rubbed her thumb seductively along his cheek as she resumed, "… get to people."

Tom nearly gave in but shook his face away. As beautiful as she was, Tom never forgot the duel with Tarquin and its aftermath. She knew Lestrange's full plan and didn't warn, nor made the effort to stop it before it was too late.

Right as Tom was getting up, rejecting Artemis's helping arm, Tom began to hear a muffled, but heated argument outside the entrance to the Hospital Wing. He couldn't recognize the voices but one sounded panicked. Madame Hogbin loudly closed her tome and started towards the door to her left and began to say, "What in Merlin's gigantic co…"

Someone beyond the door bellowed, "BOMBARDA!" and the massive, double, reinforced doors to the Hospital Wing burst off their hinges and flew a few meters into a sickbed. Deafened by the explosive force of spell on the door, Tom and Artemis both cupped their ears as they searched through the smoke, only to see a small, wrinkly humanoid with tentacles for hands and a giant head with a single eye saunter out of the smoke into the room as they cackled, "Where's my boy? Where's the boy who likes tentacles shoved up his…"

Tom wasn't sure if he was more perplexed by the unconscious body now visible through there smoke behind them or the odd visual assaulting his eyes. But as the thing looked at him and smiled with the most wretched set of teeth imaginable, it said, "Twice revived, Lazarus rose from the deep only to be killed again by his best friend." Every worry Tom had left immediately faded as the oddity ran toward him and he stood there with open arms as it jumped and suckered its body around him.

Artemis stood with her jaw agape as she saw Tom return a massive hug to the monstrosity clutching him like its new prey. Madame Hogbin, tugging at her ear and struggling to keep her balance, yelled in more anger than Tom had heard, "PIPER… ANDRIETTE… NOBEL. YOU ARE BANNED FROM THIS WING FOR THE REST OF YOUR CAREER AT THIS SCHOOL. I DO NOT CARE IF A MANTICORE COMES TO THIS SCHOOL AND MAULS YOU TO WITHIN AN CENTIMETER OF DEATH." She gasped for air and continued, exacerbated, " You… Will Not… Enter this Wing again."

The monster suckered onto Tom slowly transformed back into the form, sans scar, of Piper Nobel as they let go of Tom and skipped over to plant a wet, squid-beaked kiss on Hogbin's cheek. Madame Hogbin pulled out her wand and pointed it directly at Piper's head. The metamorphmagus slow transformed all the way back, still sans scar, but didn't flinch at the threat. They simply smiled and, keeping the school nurse's gaze, pointed their own wand at the doors now resting on a few toppled sick beds, and cast in a cheerful voice, "Reparo."

The room slowly but surely righted itself as there spell took effect. The door and its splinters floated back into place on the hinges of entrance. The dust disappeared and the beds righted themselves. A set of glass vials that had toppled over Hogbin's desk and crashed to the floor reassembled in midair and perfectly situated itself back onto the desk.

Piper continued to smile with a shit eating grin until Hogbin wheezed with a wry grin of her own, "Detention for a month, Nobel. Picard's holding pens have needed a good, non-magical cleaning."

Piper turned to face Tom and said, "I'm glad you made it, again. You had me worried when you didn't reply to my first letter. That owl though…"

Tom limped his way over to them and said, "I'd rather not share you the rest of the year with detentions. Best get out while you can. I'll see you in the morning."

Piper looked with hesitant smile at Hogbin, whose eyes were wide as she nodded and pointed at the doors to the Hospital Wing, and said, "Yeah. We'll catch up tomorrow. Sleep well, Tom."

Artemis nudged him in the side after Piper exited and made a point of gently closing the door behind them, and commented, "If you don't take her I…"

Tom cut in, "Them."

Artemis held her hands up and corrected herself, "If you don't take them, I will."

Tom chuckled, "Pretty sure they're already taken. Besides, I've got my eye on a Ravenclaw."

Tom didn't see it because he was slowly walking back over to his bed, but Artemis's expression slowly shifted as she started straightening the sheets of beds far out of the reach of the initial destruction to hide her disappointment.

The rest of the day and night, Tom went in and out of pleasant spells of sleep. A few times, he saw glimpses of the visions he saw while beneath the Black Lake but never long enough to leave an impression on him. Each time they came, he woke up with an oddly warm sensation rising from his chest to his head but it subsided before he could make a note of it.

Tom woke just before sunrise on the first Wednesday of the new term to find Artemis lying back in a chair next to his bed and a dim candle set in a glass tube on his nightstand. Her mouth was wide open as she gently snored and a little drool dripped from her chin onto an open book in her lap. He fought the powerful urge to kick the chair out from under her and instead put out the candle and closed the book before exiting the Hospital Wing.

The only source of light in the hallways of Hogwarts were from the moon as he made his way down the tower, through the Entrance Hall, and down into the Slytherin dungeons. As he came to the entrance to the common room, he gave his blood status, half-blood, and entered to find a few older Slytherins sleeping on the floor and couches by the dim fireplace. What grabbed and wouldn't let go of his attention, however, was the glass walls of the common room keeping the water from the Blake Lake out. He slowly walked towards it, evading every obstacle without paying them any mind, and tenderly placed a hand on the glass. It was as if a piece of string was gently tugging at his palm and into the deep, dark waters on the other side. Far, almost too far for him to see, into the water, he saw a slowly approaching set of lights. They gradually changed between shades of blue, green, and purple as they got closer. And closer. And closer. Now close enough to see their source.

Close enough to see the outstretched tentacle.

Close enough to hear its low, calming calls.

Close enough to feel the calm, welcoming sensation of the cold water take him.

Close enough to see the invisible thread guiding his hand towards its outstretched tentacle of its own.

Close enough to feel his memory from his plunge into the depths of the lake returning.

Close enough to hear the cries of the beast mourn the loss of its mother.

Close enough to see Tarquin's bloodied body again.

Enough to finally see every image they shared clarify and intensify in their shared mind. As the Giant Squid placed its outstretched tentacle on the glass, Tom felt a sudden rush of cold take him completely and his eyes rolled back as they shared their final vision.

Tom was on a shore he knew, but didn't know. As he looked down at his body, it was nearly translucent. He was still in his hospital gown but it too seemed faint and he could see the sand and tide through his legs and feet. He held his hand up to the full moon and its light shined straight through it. He looked out at the ocean. Its waves waxing and waning in a calm rhythm that touched him but he couldn't feel their bitter cold. He felt the invisible string tug on his palm again, towards an impossibly long cliff that overlooked the waters. A silhouetted figure was running full tilt at the edge and Tom reached up his hand to stop them but not sound came out.

The figure jumped right at the edge of the cliff and dove headfirst into the waters. Tom felt the string tug again and he trotted over to where the beach met the bottom of the cliff. Tom saw a ball of light turn on underwater and zoom around until it rested over rock that appearing and disappearing with the tide. Even in the moonlight and magical light coming from its wand, Tom couldn't see the figure as it guided the ball to float over the rock. There, bleeding and buffeted by the waves was a young cephalopod. Tom felt the string tug as hard as it could but Tom knew it didn't want him to come closer.

He was only meant to watch. And he did. Slowly the dark silhouette gained shape, color, and depth as it cradled the squid in its arms and routinely cast non-verbal healing spells on its wound. With each round, the image of the man under dual moon and magical ball of light became clear until Tom saw a young man with tied-back auburn hair holding the squid in its arms. It was a man Tom recognized immediately.

It was the same man from his visions in the depths of the Black Lake. It was the same man who, like this young squid, came to retrieve him not too long ago.

Tom came closer as a young Albus Dumbledore and his electric blue eyes looked through Tom's translucent form and yelled, "GELL, I'VE FOUND IT," and the vision ended.


	10. Primum Non Nocere

"If yuh wan' tuh break va' glass, I'll say i' was vuh Mer-mies. Vis place could use a good clean-up. An' I don' jus' mean vuh room."

Tom snapped out of the vision and blinked a few times only to see his palm pressed hard into the glass and the deep, dark calm of the Black Lake empty save for the fish, kelp, and coral. The Giant Squid was gone and now he wondered if it was all his imagination. A remnant of his first plunge into the lake.

Tom turned his head right and saw Blink's sable skinned hand, and well groomed nails, resting gently on his shoulder. He looked a little higher and genuinely returned the boy's wide smile. Blink turned his attention to the darkness of the lake and continued, "I dove aftuh yuh bu' vose damn mermies nearly gu'ed me halfway down. We fough' you was a gonnah, even Dum-boo-dore looked worried. Bu' ven, righ' when he was gonna cas' somefin', you jus' floated up on your back. Made Myrra pass ou'. If no' for your plunge, i' would have been a laugh."

Blink paused and looked back to Tom, looking his face up and down before resting on Tom's calm gaze for resuming, "You don' remember anyfing?"

Tom took his turn to look into the depths beyond the glass and resisted the urge to extend his hand again. He stood there in silence for a few seconds, almost too long. He tried his best to keep a steady voice as he answered, "Not really, Blink. I remember Saunders's stunner but that's it. It was like it… never happened."

He met Blink's eyes again, hoping, searching for any sign of disbelief, but he didn't see it. And if Blink thought it, his kind, hazel eyes didn't show it. The boy half-smiled and patted Tom's shoulder twice before turning around and said as he walked toward the stairs down to the boy's dormitory, "Your wand's on your pillow; I'm gonna go ge' changed for practice. Save me a spo' wiv you and Piper for lunch. It's time we me'."

Tom looked to the grandfather clock and saw it was only 3:35 in the morning. He shook his head as he followed Blink and said under his breath, "Like I need two agents of chaos at once."

True to his word, Blink had put Tom's possessions on his bed. Atop the trunk passed down to him from Tom the bartender was an all new set of the books he'd need for the year as well as a small basket of sweets from Sugarplum's with a note in Albus Dumbledore's handwriting attached to the handle:

Though it is not yet time for us to speak again on your nightmares, I am making preparations to give you all the information I have. Should you wish to speak on your time in the depths of the Black Lake, we shall do so then as well. For now, enjoy an assortment specially prepared for you by our friend, Sileas, to congratulate you on your recovery. I have also included a book I helped write as a young man. I believe you and Mx. Nobel will find it most amusing for your time in the Room of Requirement.

Yours most sincerely,

Albus

Ps. I hope you don't mind, but I did sneak away a few Ana-mints. Professor Einswald has taken to levitating Screeching Shrubs outside my window during class and I must rise to the challenge.

Tom chuckled as he popped a Lemon Drop in his mouth, wincing at its instant and overpowering sour sensation, and searched the neat pile of books for the odd one out. At the very bottom laid a tome with silver filigree and curved letters atop a tanned leather cover titled The Miserable Magician's Guide to Fanatic Feats by Rosamund laPenne. On the very first page, Tom failed to hold in a loud, singular laugh as he saw the moving portrait of what must be the author.

Clad in a set of multi-colored, patchy set of robes was a woman with the worst white wig and foul makeup he had seen. The woman's teeth, the few that were left anyway, were mangled, angular, and rotted. She pointed an impossibly warped wand out at him and laughed inaudibly as she jumped and hopped around the little room she had inside a golden frame painted onto the page. He turned a few pages to the glossary and saw the wealth of eccentric and amusing spells this witch created in her time. While none of many the transformations and charms struck Tom as remotely useful, all of them had a flair and creativity he knew would be fun to practice with Piper.

He skimmed down until he found a spell that caught his eye and turned to page 286 to see a set of rough sketches and a demonstrative moving picture of the Charm to Induce Onion Crying. He stepped on top of and over his trunk to plop onto his bed with the book still open to the page. As he examined the crude drawings, he narrowed his eyes, smirked, and looked to Lestrange. The boy was snoring softly behind the curtains of his four-post bed, ripe for Tom's picking. Tom reached his hand back and grabbed his wand off his pillow. He looked down at the book mimicked the wrist flexing motions of the spell and whispered the incantation for it, "Lacri… Lacricepa… Lacricepa"

After carefully closing the book and laying it behind him, Tom gingerly stepped down, silently gasping at the cold stone floor beneath his bare feet, and pointed his wand directly at where Lestrange's head would be. It felt so right. Now was his chance. But no incantation left his mouth. He just stood there, wand extended but slowly loosening in his grip. He screwed up his face and tightened his grip again but before he could say a thing, Lestrange's voice said just above a whisper from beyond the curtains, "I'm waiting."

Lestrange slowly opened the curtain closest to Tom and the latter saw the boy sitting up, his hair a messy mop that somehow still managed to suit him. Tom only caught a bare glimpse of what he thought was large lump on the other side of Lestrange's bed before the boy closed the curtain just enough to just show his upper body and a bare sneer across his face.

Lestrange looked from Tom's face, to his wand, and back again. Raising an eyebrow, he grunted, "Well?"

Tom felt his pulse pound in his neck. In his chest. In his hand. In his wand. He nearly dropped it to the floor, which was already biting him underfoot.

Instead, he slowly set it onto his bed behind him and murmured, "You're not worth it." Without another word, he turned his back, put the new spell book and the rest of his possessions in his trunk, and closed the curtains to his bed after hopping back onto it. All the while, Lestrange watched with silent curiosity and narrowed eyes.

Tom didn't find sleep. Nor did he find respite from his torrential thoughts. He had never stopped before. It wasn't even like he didn't want to. Because he did. He had exactly what he needed, what used to elude him, and had it in spades: intent. While his mind twirled like an anarchic ballerina, he twirled his wand in his hands for what only felt like a few minutes but turned out to be three hours. Tom heard some rustling from a nearby bed, the light creak of a curtain's rung as it ran across its bar, and the sound of quietly yet quickly receding footfalls. Tom opened his own curtain just enough to see the attempted sneak's white feet leaving the dorm. He narrowed his eyes for a moment and opened the left curtain a little instead, just in time to see the left side of Lestrange's curtains close in that moment.

Tom was only able to speculate for a moment before his own stomach betrayed him by gurgling loud and he quickly shut his curtains again. His stomach gurgled again and now he could feel the dull pain of its emptiness. He quickly changed into his school uniform, leaving his tie loose around the collar, and grabbed stuff his books for the day inside his bag before leaving the dorm for the Great Hall.

The moment Tom Riddle opened its massive double doors, his nose dragged him inside towards the alluring morning stews, his ears perked to the sound of still crackling bacon, and the drool forming in his mouth longed for the butter and toast waiting next to the first person he saw inside the Great Hall: Tula Wolfe. All of the tables had been re-placed since the last time he had been there, the morning of the third challenge, but Tula wasn't sitting at the Ravenclaw table with her housemates, of which there were many. Instead, she sat alone at the table on the far left side relative to the entrance. At the Slytherin table.

Tula Wolfe sat with 2 books propped up on stacks of even more as she slowly ate a thick piece of toast, dipping it in her stew every other bite. In her left hand she scrawled notes into a thick moleskin notebook while her eyes rapidly shifted back and forth. As Tom slowly came closer, he saw her finish a page of the book on her right and flip to the next with a flick of her toast carrying hand. Tom smiled, making note for himself to learn this for his own use, and stood in front of her. Tula didn't look up for nearly a minute and still didn't when she said in between bites of stew dipped toast, "Stew's good today, sit down already," and pointed to the bench across the table from her.

As he set down his bag and rolled up his sleeves, his was forced to grab his stomach as it once again roared behind his robes and Tula laughed out a few crumbs. Wiping her mouth with a napkin she had pinned under the stacked books to her left, she asked with a sly grin, "Did you eat before you snuck out this morning? Arty left you some biscuits."

Tom sat up straight to get a view of just her forehead as he answered, "I didn't see them. She was kipping when I left, her book must have been more boring than yours."

Tula looked up, her ice grey eyes just barely visible over the tomes in front of her, and responded, "I doubt it. If not for the strength of today's Earl Grey, I'd be drooling into my stew by now."

Tom laughed as he said, "I'll take a cup of that and…" He looked around the books to see everything Tula was eating and finished, "I'll just have what she is having. Thanks." Tom blinked and before him was the same spread as Tula's: a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea with a small basin of sugar, a bowl of delectable lamb stew, 3 slices of warm, just before burnt, toast with a dollop of butter on the side, and 3 perfectly crisped cuts of pork bacon.

Tom picked up his cup and just before it touched his lips, Tula's hand and cup reached over the tome to her right as she said, "To the new term."

Tom felt a small smile grow on his face and he raised his cup to tap hers and returned, "To a better term." Unseen behind the guard of her two books, Tula smiled wide and brought her cup back to take a hearty sip before returning to her work.

Tom and Tula sat silently together at the Slytherin table, even as the rest of Slytherin House joined them, albeit farther away. At numerous points during their breakfast, Tom nearly blurted out about his experience the previous night and his first time meeting the Giant Squid of the Black Lake. Every time he came close, however, he thought better of it. There would be better times. For now, their silence was enough for him.

If Tom weren't as equally engrossed in his new books for the term as Tula was in her own, he would have noticed Oswald and Blink walk in and whisper something to each other, smile, and part ways as they sat with their own houses, Blink taking a seat on the far end of the Slytherin table closest to the professor's table. Neither Tom nor Tula looked up from their tomes and tea until Piper sauntered over and said to the unaware pair, "I see Powall owes me that favor now. Shall we go to History?"

Tula pulled a small pocket watch out from her robes and said, "When Tom gives me his last slice of bacon, yes." Tom looked down as he took his last gulp of tea and saw he had two slices left.

Closing his books with a grin and putting them away, he put one slice of bacon in his mouth as he handed the last to Tula over her books. Tom then turned to Piper and said, "After class, let's come and eat here. Let's save the Room for tonight," before leading the three of them off to the Grand Staircase and up to begin their day of classes.

Professor Binns, the ghost who had been teaching History of Magic long before his death, led them through a small, notably biased book on the significance of the Sardinian delegation to the International Warlock Convention of 1289. Even with though his desperate thirst for magical knowledge extended to its history, even Tom struggled to remain receptive to the impossibly monotone voice of Cuthbert Binns. The subject matter was exciting enough, being the first known attempt at an internationally recognized statute of secrecy, but Tom saw between his shaking eyes that even Tula was being lulled by the dual force of the professor's dull delivery and the rhythm of the feather of her quill brushing back and forth across her cheek.

Tom did his best to take careful notes while his eyes drooped and quill loosened in his hand but ultimately failed with a few minutes left, only to be awoken by Piper plucking the suckers of their octopus arm off his face with a loud pop that got everyone in the room's attention as they packed their things to go to lunch. Tom looked around in a brief frenzy but saw that Tula had already left. Piper helped him pack up after and said, "Why did you want to eat in the Hall instead of the Room? I'd've thought you'd want to get back to practicing right away."

Tom rubbed his cheek where the sucker left a pulsing red ring and responded with a sarcastic shrug. Piper threatened him by turning their arm into a tentacle again but Tom just smirked as he turned away and walked out of the classroom and down the first floor corridor towards the Great Hall. Before he could open the double doors of the Great Hall, Blink poked his head out and smiled wide as he thrust them open. His attention immediately switched to Piper who stood firm with their hand out. At least what should have been their hand.

Instead of their hand, Piper held out an enlarged, vibrantly purple and blue frog arm with 3 thin yet bulbous fingers and a sickly yellow thumb spike. Blink's smiled widened even more as he stepped forward, shook the frog hand, and said, "Min' if I take a skin sam-poo? Your cullah tells me your excretions migh' be a good addi'ive for my new projec'"

Piper's hardened face betrayed them as they matched Blink's smile and said, "Glad to see Tom's streak of interesting people continues. You must be Blinky Crockett. Chaser and master chemist. Don't you hold the record for most visits to the Hospital Wing?"

Blink responded by rolling up the sleeve on his left arm and Tom saw for the first time just how many cuts, burns, and unknown abrasions marred his skin. He flaunted it like a chest of valorous medals and retorted, "And you, Piper Nobel, will come wiv me tuh my bar ovuh wintuh break vis year. Ol' Red could use a talen' like you."

Piper and Tom followed Blink inside the Great Hall, the former transforming their arm back to normal, and said as they sat down at the Slytherin table, "If the stories are true, Old Red doesn't need any more… Flare… than it already has."

Blink ordered his food, a hulking Egg Banjo and a large mug of black coffee, and in between bites and wiping the egg yolk running down his chin he said,"Nobel… Like vuh…"

Piper, who was in the middle of eating a large sausage, grumbled with their mouth full, "Second-hand murderer. Yes. Grandfather."

Blink set his sandwich and took a deep gulp of his coffee, asked for a refill, and said, "But din' vem Bolshies…"

Piper narrowed their eyes and cut in again, "They tried," and Tom saw with his mouth slightly agape, about spoon in some stew he ordered, Piper begin to wince as their scar slowly reappeared and they let it go all the way up. Piper's hair was in a loose knot at the back of their head and Tom could see for the first time just how large the scar was. It began just into their natural hairline and extended down a large portion of their left side and down the unseen portion of neck and collar bone underneath their uniform. They looked to Tom and smiled at his reaction as they said, "It's alright. But I'm glad you didn't give me up."

Blink picked his sandwich back up and said while still chewing, "Ain' vuh wors' I've seen bu' bravo to your luck bein' a change-uh. Are you safe here?"

Piper winced again and the scar began to recede back to "normal" as they answered, "The Ministry has ensured our trail is as cold as the motherland. I can use my name here but they still recommend we be cautious."

Blink laughed a few crumbs out of his mouth and said with a blink, "My comrades will be mos' pleased."

Piper spat out their tea and cackled so loud a few professors at their table, most notably Professor Whitlocke, turned their way for a moment. Piper cast a quick Scouring Charm and said while taking another, safer sip of their magically refilled tea, "I love when nicknames match the person. Anyway, tell me about your trials with Elbow Grease."

Blink launched into a half hour monologue about the different components, spells, and muggle chemistry he has attempted over the last 3 years at both Hogwarts and back in the makeshift lab he built in the basement of Old Red. Tom, but more so Piper, were caught in his rugged but informed charisma. Wild with excitement and revealing in his new audience, Blink launched into a half hour monologue on his purchase of and experiment with a single growth of what he called Gelsemium from a man in a back alley of Limehouse, which wasn't far from Old Red. He wondered if the nectar of the leaves could counteract the prickling sensation of his current blend but found out the opposite. Even at small doses, he noted with vigor that the leaves of the plant had horribly paralytic properties and may have contributed to his loss of 2 stone in under a week.

If not for the unusual silence of the Great Hall, Tom would not have noticed that they were almost late for Transfiguration. When Piper held out their hand, Blink instead gently slapped it away and hugged them, saying loud enough for Tom to hear as Piper hugged him tight, "Please tell me you don' resis' vis one's hugs too, Tommy? Vere too good." Piper smiled at them both as they pulled away and said, "I'm whittling him down, don't worry. One day he'll be the one to initiate," before grabbing Tom by the forearm and leading him out of the Great Hall. They just barely made it to the Transfiguration classroom as Dumbledore was shutting the door and greeted them both with a smile. The rest of Tom's day went smoothly and Tom stayed in the Room of Requirement with Piper well past curfew as they worked on the essays on the magical theory of hardening and softening spells set by Professor Dumbledore.

The next day, the first Thursday of the term, Tom coasted through Charms on the uneasy excitement of his first day as an intern in the Hospital Wing. After a jab to the ribs and a few words of encouragement from Piper, Tom parted ways with them as they went to lunch and he made his way to the fourth floor of the Hospital Tower. Just about to open one side of the large double doors to the Hospital Wing, Tom felt his hand stick fast to the knob and piercing pain shoot down his arm from his shoulder. His knees buckled as he reached for his wand and heard a familiar giggle from behind him. With an identical set of wicked smirks, the twins Artemis and Apollo Woode climbed the last stair to the fourth floor's balcony as Tom turned his head and felt a white-hot rage ignite in his chest and all the pain centered on his shoulder vanished.

Tom quickly cast, "Finite," and his robes flourished as he whipped around and jabbed his wand, held in his left hand while his right sagged at his side, directly at the laughing Apollo. Artemis raised their eyebrow at him as Apollo lazily raised his own and said as he looked behind him at the stairs and back at Tom, "I don't fancy a fall down the stairs, so I'll give you one shot to make it even."

Tom's top lip quivered as his anger cracked against the pulsing pain in his shoulder. He gripped his wand even tighter and jabbed it at Apollo's wide smile as he cast, "Furnunculus." Tom felt the same shot of pain in his chest as he saw the burst of green light cloud his vision for a moment but powered through just enough to see his jinx take effect.

Unfortunately for Apollo, he had just opened his mouth and the stream of gold light emitted from Tom's wand exploded inside it. He immediately sunk to the floor, convulsing and gagging as he scratched at the enlarged, rapidly reddening skin on his neck. Artemis kneeled down to him and looked in horror from Tom to her twin brother as she fumbled with her wand. Tom, emboldened by the pain in his shoulder, walked over and pointed his wand at the boy's throat as he asked with gritted teeth, "This is your only warning. Next time I'll send you out the window." He cast in quick succession, "Apapneo," which immediately made Apollo cough up a fountain of puss as he finally found breath, and "Finite," which fully erased the boils from inside the boy's mouth. Apollo struggled to get up, slapping away his sister's helping hand, and straightened his robes as he grunted, "You're lucky she likes you, filthy mudblood."

He turned on his heels with his own flourishing robes, picked him his book bag, and descended the stairs out of sight. Artemis didn't look at him as she brushed past him and inside the Hospital Wing. Tom, gingerly putting his wand away and holding onto his right arm at the bicep, walked into the Hospital Wing behind her. Inside, Madame Hogbin was just turning around as he entered and said as she beckoned him, "If you please."

Tom set down his bag by the nurse's desk and doing his best to shove his anger back down, obeyed. When he got to her, he saw in the far left corner of the room Tula magically folding white bedsheets while lightly bouncing to an unknown rhythm. Madame Hogbin snapped her fingers just a few centimeters in front of his nose and said with stern tone as he looked at her, "What is the first rule of a Healer, Mr. Riddle?"

Tom struggled to keep his fury down as he retorted back, "He deserved it, Madame."

Tom failed to hold his voice back as Hogbin took a firm grip of Tom's injured shoulder and he yelled in pain and she raised her voice, "Oh, did he now? Answer the question, or I will continue to break this rule."

Tom looked in agony, fighting against the woman's surprisingly tight and painful hold of him, at Tula. She had dropped he enchantment and was now standing with her arms folded and staring right back at him, unfazed. Almost approving of his pain. Tom looked back at Hogbin and said as he tried in vain to sneak something out of his robes, "I… Ah… Please. Let. Go. I've no idea… He…"

Tom howled again as Hogbin tightened her grip and grunted, emphasizing each word with a squeeze as she leaned close to his face, "Primum. Non. Nocere, Riddle." As soon as she released him, Tom fell to his knees and yelled into his chest. Tula walked forward, unseen by Tom who was gasping against the pain, and knelt in front of him. As she pulled out her own wand, she said, "One day, Tom, you will learn that cruelty does not halt conflict. It extends it infinitely. Hold still."

Gently removing his robes, she held his shoulder from the top and cast, "Episkey." With a painful, audible pop, Tom felt his shoulder slide back into place and a dull heat sit leftover under his skin. After helping him to his feet, Tula turned away and went back to her corner, recasting her folding enchantment. Madame Hogbin, who had been standing just a few feet away, stated as he tested his shoulder, "If you had pulled out that wand, your days here would have been over, Riddle." She sighed away her own anger and continued, "I apologize for the grip. Use your mind. Why is this rule, ever present in the muggle world as well, vital?"

Tom, still feeling the remnants of hate lightly pulsing in his chest and fingertips, answered as he slumped into a chair next to a vacant bed and cast his eyes to the ceiling, "I… I don't know Madame. I don't even…"

Madame Hogbin walked a little closer as she interrupted, "Trust, Mr. Riddle. How can our patient's rest and become well if we only seek the answer to their malady over their well-being? As Healers, we are more knowledgeable and skilled at both curative and damaging magic than all others. To know the counter, we must know its curse. As I have said before, to you specifically, a healthy duel on school grounds is not mine to stop. But for just one moment, I want you to consider the effect of your spell on Mr. Woode. Could you have stopped him without making the boy choke on puss? Did you…"

Tom snapped his attention to Hogbin and cut in, "I didn't mean for it to…"

Madame Hogbin cut him off and pointed directly at him, "Exactly! You're right there, Riddle. That is the entire point of our first rule. It does not matter what we mean to do. Any muggle could amputate an infected leg. But a healer would know how to preserve it and keep their patient walking. You wanted to hurt Mr. Woode and deter him from coming after you again, even though his jinx was mild and your shoulder easily fixed. You reacted not but disarming the boy and ending it there but by torturing the boy. This is unbecoming of a healer and you are lucky no other professors were present."

Tom felt his anger finally subside as he kept Hogbin's gaze and said, "I understand, Madame Hogbin. I will…"

Madame Hogbin cut him off one more time, holding her finger up to stop him, "No, Riddle. You won't. Don't attempt to lie to me. It will not be tolerated here."

Tom could feel the eyes of Artemis Woode and Tula Wolf as he looked away and said, "You're right. But I don't know how to stop either."

Madame Hogbin stepped even closer, kneeling to be even with him sitting in the chair, and said, "And that is what this internship is for, Tom. If even Ms. Woode here can subdue her urges, you will. In time." She lightly slapped Tom's face before standing up and continued as she walked away and towards a student asleep in a far bed, "Just don't get yourself expelled before I'm finished. Ms. Woode, if you would please."

Artemis walked over, holding out a folded set of white robes, and said, "It wasn't Apollo that cast that spell, Tom." As Tom took the robes from her, feeling the fabrics and stitching under his fingers, his chest sunk a little. Her lips quivering a little, Artemis continued, "Since today's your first, Hogbin's got you checking our stores. If we need anything, make a list and I'll take it to Slughorn to get more."

For the rest of the hour after he put on the robes Artemis gave him, he jotted down notes onto a small piece of parchment as he took inventory the large, white labeled cabinet housing all of the Hospital Wing's potion ingredients. Only a few were empty, such as Billywig Stings and Lobalug venom, which he added to a separate, smaller piece of parchment. Halfway through, Madame Hogbin summoned them all sandwiches and tea. Tula and Artemis took theirs and returned to their tasks, so Tom did the same.

When he finished taking inventory of the Wing's ingredients, ending with the empty drawer of Wormwood Leaves, Artemis was putting away her own set of white robes into a wardrobe by Madame Hogbin's desk as he walked over and gently tapped on her shoulder. She turned around immediately, looked down at the two pieces of parchment held in Tom's other hand, and took scanned his notes, running her finger down the list of empty ingredients, and said, "Okay," before brushing past him and walking out of the Hospital Wing without another word. Tom looked up to the clock and saw he had a few minutes before his next class so he put away his own white robes, picked up his bag leaning against Hogbin's desk, and took the last sandwich from the platter as he walked out and down the Hospital Tower's steps towards the Transfiguration classrooms.

A/N: Apologies for the erratic upload schedule. While I am 2 books ahead in the writing process, editing them to an acceptable level of quality has been difficult while I work on other, unrelated projects. This message will be here for 1 week and then be removed. I hope you have enjoyed the story up to now. If you have, or haven't, a review telling me how you feel and why would be most appreciated. Thanks for your eyeballs.


	11. Sub Rosa

“Reducio!”

Tom Riddle jerked his wand hand just out of the path of the purple jet of light, shot from Blink Crockett’s wand. The first two months of Tom Riddle’s second year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have gone about as well as his current three-way duel with Piper Nobel and Blink. His success in the classroom had yet to translate to his time as an intern in the Hospital Wing. For all his effort, he had not escaped banal cleaning duties. When he tried to sneak a peak behind the curtains and take notes of the examinations Tula and Artemis were conducting, Madame Hogbin lobbed a Stinging Jinx at the back of his head. He suggested a bezoar as a remedy for a common poison a fellow student ingested, much to the amusement of Apollo bringing his sister lunch, Hogbin conjured a pregnant goat and told him to find one. Just a few days before his current duel, a magical fungus brought in as a Halloween prank wreaked havoc on the student body. What began as a small rash after coming into contact with its unseen spores, would escalate to sprouting mushrooms whose caps exploded, further spreading the spores. Instead of being on the front lines in the Hospital Wing, which somehow grew to accommodate the influx of students and professors, Tom was sent to gather supplies and send out new order forms at the Owlery. If not for his constant use of a shield charm, he too would have contracted the fungal infection on numerous occasion.

But now he was stuck between a hard place and an impossible one. No slouch on his own, sweat pooling on his forehead and hands, Tom volleyed and deflected spell after spell as Piper and Blink teamed up on him during their supposed duel on the front lawn of Hogwarts. While Blink cast more amusing transformation spells, Piper kept him on his toes with a barrage of Tickling and Smiling Jinxes. Tom’s lips became increasingly chapped and his mouth felt like the dredges of a chalkboard as he cast a counter spell on his face and cast in quick succession, “Velloperta.”

A ball of auburn light burst from Tom’s wand and exploded between Piper and Blink just as they dodged out of the way. Behind them, a tree was not so lucky. From its stump to its first few branches, a patch of fur resembling that of a ginger tabby cat grew and waved with the strong winds buffeting everyone. A few of the students who had gathered to watch laughed and one, a young Hufflepuff Tom didn’t recognize, walked up to the tree as the three duelists circled each other and started rubbing her face into the expanding fur. 

Piper stopped in their tracks and yelled, “HEY! I thought we said nothing from the Dumbledore book!”

Tom took his chance and cast another from it, “Pedamplio,” which hit its target: Piper’s bare left foot. Tom smirked as he saw Piper lose their balance completely as a third leg sprouted from underneath their foot and took them for a ride. Everyone in the small but slowly growing crowd, including Tom and Blink, laughed as it dragged Piper along the grass for a few minutes before the spell wore off. Piper, not even taking the time to magic-away the grass and dirt stains streaked like swipes of a thick paint brush, immediately popped up and Tom saw their scar receding back into their collarbone as all of their visible skin changed color to blood red. Their arms at their side, they laughed to themself and snarled “Okay… Okay…” They looked up to Tom and finished, “My turn.”

Tom attempted to cast a Disarming Charm on them but Piper reacted too quick. They hissed, “Pluma Eructo,” and Tom felt a searing jet yellow light strike him in the cheek and for a single, unfortunate moment, he thought the spell was fake and the light was a fluke. Until he felt something itchy burst in his mouth and multiply. Every time he tried to cough it out, the feathers stuck to inside of his mouth and throat only became more stuck what little and saliva he had left. His heart pounded in his neck like his arteries would burst. Dropping his wand to the ground, he used his right hand to dig out the rainbow plumed feathers while his left hand weakly beat at his chest. Getting just barely enough oxygen to breathe, he collapsed onto his chest as he continued to cough and desperately failed at grabbing his wand.

After a few seconds of audible torture and small feathers vomiting out of Tom’s mouth while the watched in silent terror, his savior came forth and knelt on one knee. As they brought lifted Tom just enough to rest on his knees, Piper whispered into his ear while pointing their swirling-veined, black wand at his throat, “You’ve got your snakes, and I’ve got my birds. Finite.”

Tom pushed down hard on Piper’s shoulder as he finally took a desperate gulp of air and coughed a few more loose feathers out, feeling the pounding pulse of the blood in his carotid slow. He looked to Piper, who was just about to stand up, and pulled them back down as he whispered a question back, “Enemies only?”

Piper smiled and brought him up with them as they stood, hugging him tight and answering, “Of course.” The stunned crowd, still motionless, parted and Blink joined their hug and joked with a hesitant laugh, “If I ever ask for a due’, jus’ stun me and be done wiv I’. You two are cer’ifiaboo. Pipe, le’s ge’ va’ off yuh, eh?” As they parted, Blink swung his school bag around his waist to face them both and after a second of searching with his hands, he pulled out a few small, glass vials, each with a vastly different color and viscosity and labeled in handwriting Tom couldn’t hope to read. Picking the one on the far left in his right hand, he put back the others and uncorked the remaining vial, a yellow-green liquid that looked closer in texture to mayonnaise than water.

After magically conjuring a piece of white linen with his wand, he dabbed the linen in the vial, which stained red as it contacted the unknown liquid, and promptly re-sealed the vial before using his free hand to plug his nose. As he reached forward to dab at the numerous stains covering Piper’s school uniform, he said, “New recipe, hope yuh don’ mine’. Smelly as a fresh trump, bu’ we’ll see her poten’shoo. Plug up, Tommy-boy and Pipe. I’d ravvuh no’ clean up your breakfas’ too.”

Tom and Piper obeyed just in time as a vile stench caught the brisk October breeze and Tom felt his eyes begin to water. The gathered crowd, some of which must not have heard because they were now dry heaving, closed in around them and watched as Blink took the applied end of the cloth and dabbed a single stain on Piper’s dress shirt. At first staining her shirt the same red as the cloth, the creamy liquid began to dissolve the stain on Piper’s shirt before everyone’s eyes. Leaning his neck and head back in surprise just long enough for Tom and Piper to both notice and then look at each other with questioning eyes, Blink pressed on and began rubbing the solution-ended cloth on every visible stain. Though it was barely visible, Tom watched as Piper’s chest flattened ever so slightly when Blink dabbed at their chest. Blink seemed to have noticed as well because he whispered just loud enough for only Piper and Tom to hear, “Sorry for goin’ over the naughty bi’s. No’ va’ i’ would’ve go’en tuh me, but fanks for doin’ your change-y fing.” 

Piper nodded and said, “I figured Isobel wouldn’t want you to be seen touching my globes, even on the rare day I have them.”

Blink snorted out a laugh and dropped the cloth to the ground as he said, “Too right you are. I’m only allowed to… Oh… That’s one for the notes.” Tom and Piper both followed Blink’s gaze to the grass where his coated cloth was resting. Rather, where there grass underneath the coated part of it was quickly shriveling like it hadn’t seen moisture in a month. Blink reacted quickly, grabbing a large pair of silver tweezers from his bag and conjured a hand-sized, glass mason jar and metal lid. Carefully picking up the cloth with the tweezers, he gently put it coated side down into the jar and screwed the lid on as tight as he could. 

As he stood back up, he said with a quick glance into Piper’s eyes, “Apologies, love,” and proceeded to pull out a magnifying glass from his trousers and inspect the spots he used his solution on. The crowd stepped even closer, one of which Tom recognized to be Tula as she cast Scouring Charms on those unlucky enough to have vomited onto themselves or someone next to them, and Blink put his magnifying glass back into his pocket with a smile as he said, “Good news, i’ jus’ ha’es grass. Or organic ma’uh. Only more tes’s will tell.”

Piper, pulling out their wand to magically scour away the remaining stains, smiled back and replied, “I heard you were bonkers but now I see I was wrong. You’re one Knut short of Frankenstein. But that’s all right. Tom here’s got us both beat,” clapping Tom on the back. They continued, walking over to where they placed their bags and lifted theirs onto their left shoulder as they said, “I’m famished. Shall we snag a sandwich from the Great Hall before Defense, Tom? What’ve you got next, Blink?”

Tom nodded as he picked up his bags and turned his gaze to watch Tula finished up cleaning the last victim to the stench of Blink’s concoction. Her precise spellwork and firm tone made Tom blush and a small smile crept its way across his face as Blink answered, smirking from Tom to Piper, “Potions wiv Ravenclaw. Bunch o’ lames, I say. Excep’ va’ one, Tommy-boy. I see wha’ you like abou’ va’ one.”

Tom, still enamored by Tula who was just turning around as a boy she just fixed up said something Tom couldn’t hear and pointed at him, mumbled, “Yeah, uh huh. Yup.”  
Blink’s smirked widened further as he continued, “Though you stan’ a fa’ chance wiv ‘er. Unless yuh wan’ an ol’ love-dovey potion from me to ge’ vuh chances up, I sugges’ yuh clean the droo’ from your face and stop starin’.”

Tom finally snapped out of it just as Tula was within a half a meter of him with a navy cloth reaching up to his lips and she said with a smirk of her own , “He’d need a lot more than that, Blinky,” and wiped the drool slowly crawling down to his chin. Tom shook his head, quickly wiped the rest away with his right shirt sleeve, and said, “Did… I was just…”

Tula tapped him twice on the shoulder before she turned to walk away and said, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Arty.”

Piper and Blink both cackled as Tom stood dumbfounded with his school bag barely hanging onto his right shoulder. He turned to his two laughing friends and pointedly asked, “I wasn’t… Wait… What did she mean about not telling Artemis? I don’t…”

Blink stood up and gathered both Tom and Piper up under his arms as he guided them forward towards a side entrance to Hogwarts Castle and asked, “Take a be’ on how long till he ge’s i’, Pipe? Five Galleons says he grows the first hairs on his lip.”

Tapping Blink’s hand on their right shoulder, Piper chuckled, “I’d lose that bet if I guessed any earlier. A genius without sight past his own nose, our friend is.” Tom hesitantly joined Blink and Piper’s heavy laughter as they entered the castle and towards their last class of the day before the much anticipated Halloween Feast.

Committing earlier that day to joining Blink in the festivities the school offered rather than spiriting away to their hideout on the seventh floor for the second year in a row, the decor and food surprised both Tom and Piper the moment they saw inside the wide open doors of the Great Hall after leaving Defense Against the Dark Arts. From the floor to the impossibly high ceilings of the hall, the entire room was filled with Halloween spirit. Many of the school’s ghosts, and a group on horseback Tom didn’t recognize, flew freely around the room, popped out of the floor to scare students, or had set up small events for students to participate in. As the entered, Tom saw a growing group of students surrounding one such event and beckoned for Piper to follow as he squeezed his way into the crowd.

Standing a few meters away from a young, well dressed ghost with her neck trapped in the lunette of an equally ghostly, small guillotine, a boy Tom recognized from the back as Hugh Reymund, the Gryffindor boy in his year he had helped just a year prior, stood trembling as he struggled to keep a small pumpkin aloft with his wand. Tom wove his way further into the crowd until he made it to the front and said from behind Hugh’s left ear, “It’s just murder, Hugh.” The already frightened boy nearly jumped out of his clothes and broke his concentration on the floating pumpkin. 

Hugh turned, a loose fitting mask with what Tom recognized as Celtic warding runes on covering most of his face, and stuttered, “Blimey, Riddle. I’m havin’ a rough go as it is. She just won’t stop rhyming. I can’t concentrate.

The ghostly woman, a whisky, silver whig atop her ghoulishly smiling face, cackled with a slightly French accent, “Neither fruit nor vegetable hurt ze pride in mine head. So the beasts of the court CHOPPED IT OFF INSTEAD! Hahahaha!”

Many of the gathered students joined in her laughter, especially when she rolled her eyes into the back of her head and they reappeared from the bottom. Tom lifted Hugh’s mask just enough to meet the boy’s eyes and said just loud enough to be heard over the crowd, “Or you could try this,” and whispered through the growing smirk on his face. Hugh smiled back and pulled back down his mask as he turned around and faced the ghoulish woman as she finished another rhyming joke about her apparent execution.

Hugh knelt to be even with her head, whispered to her, and stood back up a few paces as he leveled his wand at her. The woman’s eyes and smile grew unnaturally wide as Hugh’s voice rang out above the noise of the crowd, “Aranea Eructo!” A beam of purple light cascaded over the head and just like Tom’s and Piper’s variations on the spell created by former Headmaster Vindictus Viridian, a few moments passed without a thing happening. Like the crowd, even the woman with her head stuck inside a lunette seemed disappointed. But Tom took his chance and extended his wand to cast green sparks at the single rope holding the ghostly guillotine up above the woman’s head.

Right when the blade lopped off her head, the woman winked at both Tom and Hugh as she rolled her eyes in the back of her head and out of her mouth, ears, and eyes erupted a swarm of spectral spiders of varying size. Almost all of the students shrieked at once as Hugh and Tom laughed and Artemis joined them on the left. Artemis pointed her wand, a beautiful engraved acacia a little longer than Tom’s willow, at the largest spider and cast, “Gemino!”. As soon as the effected spider was kicked by a Gryffindor boy Tom didn’t know, it immediately began to multiply even more and the boy screamed in a pitch higher than Tom though possible. 

Artemis turned to Hugh and Tom, resting a her elbow on the former’s shoulder and twirling her wand lazily as it pointed at the boy’s face, and giggled, “Since when did you start helping Gryffindor’s, Riddle?”

Tom reached forward and lightly pushed her wand out of the way as he answered, “Dumbledore had be tutor him in class one day. I figured once more couldn’t hurt. He’s no risk to our shot at the cup, Woode. Or are you afraid he’ll trounce you in a duel?” his smirk returning.

Artemis laughed haughtily as she put her wand away into a leather holster strapped over her white dress shirt, which was unbuttoned down to top of her chest. Tom felt the icy cold of her hand as she grabbed it and said as she tugged at him, “Mind if I steal him, Ickle-Firsty? Thanks.” Not waiting for Hughs response, Artemis dragged Tom away from Hugh and the still scurrying crowd as the rapidly multiplying giant spiders were overtaking a small group of Gryffindors who thought it best to foolishly stand their ground, only to be rendered sick by the spectral spiders skittering straight through their bodies.

Tom tried to look back as the Charms Professor Cora Whitlocke, laughing as she approached the fleeing students, began dispelling the spiders, but Artemis yanked on his hand again forced his attention forward. Evening his pace with hers, Tom followed Artemis out of the Great Hall. As they made their way down into the dungeons towards their house’s common room, Tom japed, “I can’t tell which is colder, your hands or this dungeon.”

Artemis stopped just outside the door to common room and squeezed his hand even harder as she brought it up to her equally cold face and retorted, “I think you’ll find my heart is even colder, dear boy.” She dropped his hand as she turned to face the massive door and said, “Pure blood, of course.” The stone door opened in and gathered around the flickering, magically green flames of the fireplace sat a group of Slytherins Tom didn’t know well and their head of house, Professor Horace Slughorn. 

Magically conjuring two more stools that gently floated to the ground, Professor Slughorn beckoned them in, “Ah, yes. Ms. Woode and my young prodigy, Mr. Riddle. Do join us.”  
As Tom looked around, he noticed a few of the people gathered of the mostly male group, were far older than him. One had a handlebar mustache slightly thicker than Slughorn’s and another had a fresh scar that extended down from the bottom of his pale left eye and disappeared into a bushy but well managed, auburn beard. Despite being too old to be students, both wore loose Slytherin ties. Tom peered around the room, noticing Rodulph and his gang on the periphery of the group, and turned his attention as he curtly asked Slughorn, “I assume Piper wasn’t invited this time, Professor?”

Taking a short puff from a half-depleted cigar in his left hand while he nursed a small glass of what Tom knew to be the professor’s frequent favorite, Firewhisky from the Hog’s Head, Slughorn answered, “You and I both know she…” He paused as he caught the flicker of anger Tom tried in vain not hide overtake his face and continued, “I thought it best, given… they… don’t care much for me.”

Feeling the energy and faces of everyone in the room shift to him, Tom leaned forward and said, “Though you and I both have much to learn on this front, it is just a pronoun… Professor.” 

A delectable silence took the room and Tom ate it up like the ambrosia of a win he knew it to be. For half a minute, the only sound came from a surprised giggle by the auburn-bearded man sitting with his left arm extended along the back of one of the three black couches around the fireplace. The man straightened up a little as he looked to Slughorn and snickered, “Apologies, Horace, but the boy’s got a fire. Even if it takes the place of respect for authority.” The man then beckoned Tom forward with his hand outstretched, and when Tom shook it, he continued, “Name’s Greyback, Augustus Greyback. I work for the Ministry.”

Tom let go of the man’s firm grip, who stayed grasping Tom’s hand for a few seconds too long, and said as he retook his seat on the edge of their assembly, “Tom Riddle. What do you do for the Ministry?”

Augustus Greyback straightened up even more and dropped his hands down to clasp each other between his knees as he responded, both eyes locked onto Tom, “I’ve got two. I can’t tell you one but I’ll tell you the other: I work for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. I specialize in capturing beasts that go where they shouldn’t.”  
Tom’s eyes followed the man’s scar up and down before returning to meet his gaze and inquired, “Is that how…”

Greyback interjected, “Nah, that’s from my boy. Only son doesn’t know control yet…” Gripping his hands even tighter and before releasing them to go back to his original, lazy position on the couch, he resumed, “But he’ll learn. If I can subdue a dragon with these hands, they can make him obedient yet.”

Taking long sip from his Firewhisky, Slughorn cut the man’s tension as he asked, “But a fine lad, he is. Will he be joining us in a couple years?”

Greyback smiled through his bear, showing a few crooked and rotting teeth beneath his thick facial hair, and jested, “His mother willing! The woman’s got a firmer hold on the boy the I, afraid of…”

The unknown, mustachioed man seated next to him on the couch, who Tom just noticed had similarly sized scars as the bearded man but closer to the bottom of his neck, cut him off with just the barest widening of his eyes and said in a low, but oddly commanding voice as he looked back to Professor Slughorn, “I think it best Greyback and I depart. We have much to do before the night is over. The moon waits for none, Horace.”

As the two man got up from their couch, Slughorn failed twice to heave his way off his armchair before using all of his ample weight to lift himself up to shake their hands. As he shook the mustached man’s hand, he said, “I”m always a letter away, Walt. Should you…”

The man named Walter cut him off, a fake smile Tom knew too well adorning his face, “Of course, Horace. We remember your commitment to aid the Department. But do go easy on the Firewhisky. How old Rowland keep’s his stock up, I haven’t the slightest. Farewell.” Both men shook the hands of a few Slytherin students while Tom stayed on the periphery in his stool. Just before they finally left the common room, the man named Walter locked eyes with Tom and for just a moment, Tom swore he felt his heart cease beating. In the exact opposite way the sight of Tula seemed to. But before he could recognize it for what it was, Tom’s heart resumed and Artemis brought his attention back as he said, “One of these days, Sluggy’s gonna put you in detention for your mouth, Riddle. Prodigy or not.”  
Tom shook off the sudden chill he felt emanating from his chest and rebutted, “How hard can it be to learn a simple pronoun, Artemis?”  
Artemis turned Tom by the seat of his stool to face her as she responded, “People like them are killed in America, Tom. The world just isn’t… It isn’t there yet. Believe me, I wish…”  
But Tom didn’t hear another word. The sight of Rodulph Lestrange and Apollo Woode sneaking out of the common room with the hoods of their cloaks up stole his attention. Without saying a word to her, Tom brushed off the grasping hand of Artemis and left her to sit in the Slytherin Common Room as everyone else also began to leave and go back to the festivities in the Great Hall.  
Carefully keeping an eye on their hoods as he did his best to blend in with the roving groups of students in masks, Tom followed Rodulph and Apollo out of the dungeons, through the Entrance Hall, and finally out onto the grounds. Tom waited behind a pillar as he watched the two boys look around and finally take off their hoods as they made their way across the lawn towards the back side of the Quidditch Pitch. Keeping his steps light and staying far enough away to avoid their infrequent glances back to see if they were followed, Tom trailed them by the light of the full moon until they came to a stony path they led to a tall waterfall and a large plunge pool.

Taking his time to find a good bush to hide behind, Tom watched as they went closer to the pool and took off their robes. And then their ties. Their shoes and socks. Tom watched them face each other and hold each others hands before Apollo released them and thrust his arms around Rodulph and his face into the boys waiting lips. Tom could feel the pieces into place as he watched them snog and grope each other’s backs. The extra lump in Rodulph’s bed. The retreating footsteps of the dorm.

But before Tom could gather his mind back to the present, he made a mistake. Tom’s weight crushed the thin, inconveniently loud branches of the bush he hid behind and Rodulph quickly drew not his own wand but the wand poking out of Apollo’s back pocket. He yelled, “Stupefy,” and a jet of red light pierced through the air and crashed into a tree not a meter away, illuminating Tom’s face.

Knowing they caught him, Tom stood and cast, “Lumos Mobilis,” as he lifted his hands up. Slowly walking forward, Tom said just loud enough for them to hear over the waterfall, “Look, I’ll just go back and not say a…”

Apollo, seething and now holding a wand too, bellowed, “Bombarda!” The same tree Rodulph hit with a Stunner exploded and a wave of shrapnel hit Tom on his entire left side as he dropped his wand and knelt to protect himself. Tom felt the stinging splinters poking out of his face and the slow trickle of blood down his chin and onto his hand as he grabbed for his wand and let his emotions finally run loose. The anger coursing through him now was stronger than ever, even the duel with Tarquin. He didn’t feel the splinters or the blood anymore. Just the rage. It was all he needed his vision centered on the two Slytherin boys who just moments ago were in the throws of love. He’d gladly end their fun here. And their lives if he must.

If he must.

If…

Tom saw a brief flash of green invade his vision but pushed past it. Just like he did when he cursed Rodulph’s hair off. Whatever forced tried to stop him was powerless now. He had the power. He had all of it. And now they’d pay.

Tom’s mouth widened into an evil sneer as he stood up, his hands up in the air with his wand in his right hand just loose enough to be convincing as he mentally guided his balls of light to hover near the middle of the path between himself and the two Slytherin boys. Tom relished in the heat forming behind his eyes as he stated, “It bothers me not who you snog, Lestrange. I was merely curious whose steps I saw flee our dorm that night. Now I see there is reason for tonight’s flight and… slithering. Shall we just…”

Tom swiftly dropped his hands, leveled his wand at Rodulph and cast, “Flippendo,” before they could react. The blue and yellow light of the jinx contrasted well with their dark surroundings as it shot through the air and engulfed its target. Both Rodulph and Apollo’s wand were sent flying a few feet in the air and into the deep pool below the waterfall. In sudden shock, Apollo didn’t react in time as Tom first magically disarmed him and then sent him flying into the pool as well. Tom pushed through more flashes of green in his mind as he cockily strode down the rocky path to the pool and stood at the edge, waiting for them both to surface. Much to Tom’s pleasure, when they finally did, fear betrayed both their faces as they helplessly did all they could to stay afloat in the freezing waters. 

Tom relished in the moment, watching them flinch at the icy sprays of the waterfall against the backs of their necks. This is the power he has been waiting for. Thirsted for. Hunted for. Tom looked down at his feet and felt something he hadn’t felt in many years, not since he had snuck into the greenhouse garden of a London elite and found their pet. A small snake circled over his shoes and he knelt to pick it up as the two boys continued to watch, too afraid to even consider fighting back. As he brought the snake up closer to his face, Tom saw the repeated, thick black lines running down its body and almost lost himself in the beauty of the inky black pattern atop its head. He brought it even closer and in a language he hadn’t spoken since before he came to Hogwarts, he asked in a whisper to the snake in its language, “Which shall drown today, my friend?”

Much to the horror of Rodulph and Apollo, the cold slowly sapping both their strength and facial color, the snake turned its head to them and back to Tom as it responded in its language, “May we eat the other? It has been such time since we have feasted. And we are so. Very. Hungry.”

Tom’s adrenaline peaked as the sound of slithering and hissing grew louder and more, at least two dozen more, snakes with the same scale patterns as the one in his hand moved, surrounding the plunge pool. All of them whispering too many words for him to keep up with but all hoping to finally satiate themselves on the two, barely surviving boys in the water. Tom lifted his eyes as he walked closer to the snakes and pool and fixed them on Rodulph and Apollo as he whispered in the snake’s tongue, “A fine meal they shall be. For us all.”

In that moment, he saw not the flash of green. Not the red-haired woman sacrificing herself for her baby. Not the men he killed in their home atop the hill. He saw, for just long enough to shake himself free of his torment and anger, the face of his older self looking back in mirror. The deep, blood red eyes that looked back. And a forked tongue that licked its lips. His lips. Tom’s hands turned ice cold and the after effects of adrenaline kicked in. Shaking uncontrollably, he dropped the snake to the rocky path at his feet just in time to hear a female voice cast from behind him, “Expelliarmus!”

Both the snake and wand in Tom’s hands flew from his grasp and landed at the foot of the plunge pool. Tom’s fury raged for the split second he didn’t know the caster and immediately flatlined the moment he did. Standing with a mobile ball of light blue magical light above her head stood Tula Wolfe. Though her mouth bore no signs of it, her eyes showed her hidden disappointment and she struggled against her shaking, outstretched wand hand as she continued to walk forward with her light. When her wand was just inches from his nose, keeping her eyes locked on his, she leaned her head around him and asked the two in the pool, “Are you hurt? Where are your wands?”

Apollo, shaking from the freezing of the pool, stuttered as he and Rodulph began making their way out of the water, “W-w-w-we lost them w—w-when he sent us into the water. Th-th-they must be und-d-d-derneath. C-c-c-can…”

Before he could continue, Tula broke the intensity directed at Tom for moment and shot her wand out to the side of his head as she cast, “Accio wands”. Holding out her other arm to Tom’s right, all three scattered wands, including Tom’s, flew into her ready hand. She returning her gaze to Tom’s, he saw her pocket his and held out the other two to the now surfaced and shivering Slytherins. 

Apollo cast a Hot Air charm on Rodulph and then himself before whispering to Tom as he picked up his things to leave, “You tell anyone and…”

Tom, keeping Tula’s stare, interrupted, “And you won’t tell about mine…”

Apollo hesitated for a moment, looked to Rodulph, who nodded, and nodded at Tom before leaving Tom and Tula in their tense silence. Tom waited for a couple minutes as both of their breaths evened, and almost synchronized before he began, “Tula.. I…”

She interrupted him as she dropped her wand and turned around to walk away, “Headmaster Dippet and Professor Dumbledore want to see you.It isn’t about tonight; something more pressing.”

Tom nodded and followed her until he could see Hogwarts Castle and stopped to stare at the lake. Tula turned around came to stand next to him. When he felt her presence, he looked right into her eyes and stated plainly, “Thank you for stopping me.”

Tula, her face hiding all emotion for him to detect, turned and replied as she began walking again, “I shouldn’t have to stop you, Tom. That’s the entire point.” For as little as Tom knew of world of love, Tom knew what he felt came at the wrong time, but the darkness for hiding his briefly blushing face as he moved to follow her again without another word.

She led him to the castle, up to the second floor, and around the corner to the Headmaster’s tower before she stopped, nodded at him with an expressionless face, and left him in front of the looming gargoyle entrance to the Headmaster’s office. Tom walked forward and muttered to himself, “All right, I guess I’ll wait here.” And so he did. Sitting down on the edge of the short platform in front of the gargoyle, Tom waited 5 minutes. 10. A half hour before the gargoyle came to life and magically turned itself clockwise and up, revealing a short staircase that Tom momentarily hesitated to ascend. 

Even before he reached the top, he could hear two angry men arguing through the small crack in the door to the Headmaster’s Office. Peeking with just half his face peering through the just ajar door, Tom saw Headmaster Armando Dippet pacing with his hands behind his back as he gruffly asserted, “…a boy, Albus. That is all he is. A gifted child, yes. A great asset to this school, undoubtedly. But a… a bridge, as you say? Preposterous. There is not one part of your…”

The Headmaster stopped short as Tom pressed his face too hard into the cracked door and it creaked in the middle of his sentence. Quickly straightening his long, silver and gold robes, he grunted, “Well, come in boy. Best to end this now.”


	12. Intellectus Per Dolorem

Tom hesitated, his hand on the door but unwilling to open the door and face the two men awaiting him on the other side. In the single moment before he pushed open the thick door to Headmaster Dippet’s Office, the speed of his mind could have managed escape velocity.  
They couldn’t know about him following Apollo and Rodulph.  
Not the spells.  
Not the snakes.  
The snakes.  
His voice. His spoke to them.  
Dumbledore knew.  
He told him himself.  
He was done.  
They were debating his expulsion and Dumbledore was…  
The moment passed and Albus Dumbledore cut off Tom’s thought with a kinder smile than Tom expected, a simple question, and a word Tom hadn’t heard before, “How was your Samhuinn, Tom?”  
Tom’s thoughts realigned instantly but remained unsure as he responded with his own question, “Sir, I don’t follow. What is a… Saw…win?”  
Professor Dippet huffed and puffed but Albus giggled as he clarified, “Samhuinn, Tom. Forgive the old Scots for their language; it is not too compatible with today’s English. It’s the holiday we celebrate today, though theirs is far more interesting, in my view. The warding of spirits. Bonfires. A bit of dress-up. We lost you during the feast; I assume Slughorn regaled you with his guests and stories of grandeur?”  
Even though his eyes showed a light hearted disposition, Tom could still feel them even as he looked around the spacious office and wondered how long it would take to read the probable thousands of books lining the shelved walls. And how much stronger he would be for doing so. Professor Dippet cleared his throat and barked, “Well, boy? Your professor asked you a question!”  
Tom snapped his attention back to both men and mumbled, “Yes, sir I…”  
Dippet cut off even louder, “Speak up, boy! We don’t have all night.”  
Heat rose behind Tom’s eyes again as he looked at his headmaster and couldn’t help but notice his abnormally shaking right hand as it hung at his side. At the brown spots speckled on the man’s face and hands. The slight hunch to the man’s back and poor posture. Surely a wizard of his position could stave off aging. Unless…  
Tom shook the thought away and screwed his face up into a practiced smile and answered affirmatively, “Yes, Professor. The night has affected me and it is far from my mind to waste your valuable time. I was not present for much of Professor Slughorn’s gathering but I did meet two men I am sure would provide invaluable insight into my future as a wizard.”  
Tom paused for a moment to see if his ruse was successful, only staying on Albus’s eyes long enough to think he’d only fooled one of them, and continued as he reset Professor Dippet’s already softening glare, “To what do I owe the pleasure, Professor? I am at your service.”  
Professor Dippet gingerly sat down in a tall, purple cushioned and gold painted throne chair before answering, “Professor Dumbledore has taken an interest in your studies and well being. As he should, as a professor of my school. But as I have now reminded him twice, his little… camp… did not show any marked improvement in your standing, nor the standings of those he invited at my behest. Nor do I believe his inquests into your…dreams… will provide any such answer beyond conjecture and hearsay. Perhaps you can enlighten me. To what is Professor Dumbledore referring?” Professor Dippet flicked his hand ever so slightly and the chair opposite himself and Professor Dumbledore slid out just enough for Tom to sit down.  
As Tom obeyed, he folded his hands, clenching them to remind himself to keep up the act, and began, “Though Professor Dumbledore and I have not discussed them at length, I believe they may be nothing more than just that. Dreams. Frightening, to be sure. But still dreams. I only…”  
Though only seeing them in the periphery of his vision as he looked to the headmaster, Tom thought he saw a flash in Dumbledore’s eyes beneath the man’s half moon spectacles. Tom carefully continued, “I will admit that were unsettling at first but I have not had one since…”  
Another flash.  
Tom cleared his throat and said, “I have not experienced them in some time. But if you worry for my well being, Professor…” Tom turned to smile at Professor Dumbledore and concluded, “I assure you, I have never been better.”  
Albus suddenly stood from his chair and commanded in a soft but affirmative tone, “Take out your wand, Tom.”  
Professor Dippet stood up as well and stared daggers into Albus as he challenged, “What is the meaning of this, Albus. Are you…”  
Albus interrupted him as he set his own wand on a nearby bookcase, “I only wish to teach Tom the spell required. May I assume I may use your Pensieve?”  
Professor Dippet blustered as limped closer to Albus, “In my office, I demand…”  
Albus didn’t take his eyes off Tom and cut the headmaster off again as he moved toward a glass cabinet in the corner by the entrance, “I wish to see what truth Tom will show us, if any. don’t you, Armando? We won’t be long. As headmaster, do I have your permission?”  
Professor Dippet stood silently for a moment, two, slowly stroked his short beard once, and conceded as he walked away and climbed the steps to the large desk and proportionately large throne-style chair, “You have 1 hour. Not a minute more. I expect answers, Albus. And evidence, this time. I’ll not have my time wasted again.”  
Tom looked quizzically from the Headmaster to his Transfiguration professor. The latter winked with his right eye over his half-moon spectacles and beckoned him closer as he walked to Tom’s right near the entrance. After delicately sliding away a dark blue curtain, Tom beheld what he thought to be a bird bath, not unlike the one in the courtyard he would watch from the second floor window of Wool’s Orphanage. But as he obeyed Dumbledore and stepped forward, he couldn’t take his eyes off the murky liquid swirling without a catalyst. Like the ebb and flow of calm ocean waves, it transfixed him for a few seconds and would have for more if Dumbledore hadn’t again interrupted him, “I believe I asked you to take out your wand, Tom.”  
Just loud enough for Tom to hear, Headmaster Dippet snickered, “Boy can’t even resist the basin…Ha… A bridge…”  
Tom brushed off both the slight and the pull of the liquid as he looked at Dumbledore, pulled out his wand, and replied, “Yes, sir. What spell are you going to teach me?”  
Albus smiled a little as he took out his own wand and answered, “One’s memories are sacred, Tom. And just as one can spin a web of lies as intricate as the best orb-weavers, so too can one spin this web in their memories. Before I teach you this spell, you must promise to extend our agreement to this… exercise. You and I cannot hope to understand your situation if I do not see the truth. To the extent of your ability. Do I have your agreement?”  
Albus once again peered over his spectacles and just like every other time, without any noticeable magic to force him, Tom felt their irresistible pull and answered as he kept the man’s inquiring stare, “If it means their end, yes. I will show you what I can.”  
Albus didn’t look away as he rebutted, “That is not good enough, Tom. ‘Can’ is not enough. You are one of the brightest in your year and doubtless have one of the best memories as well. If you do not think you can accurately recall them, I will stop here. This is for you; my curiosity notwithstanding.”  
Tom’s eyes began to ache and water as he internally begged for Albus to let his eyes go. Externally, he relented, “I will show it all… Albus.”  
Albus finally looked away and Tom, realizing he hadn’t taken a full breath in their exchange, did his best to conceal his weighted breaths while Albus pointed down at the murky basin and began, “To use this, the Pensieve, one must magically extract their memories and cast them into he liquid. Like so…” The professor lifted the tip of his wand, which Tom noticed coiled like the roots of a black tree at the base, to his head and briefly closed his eyes. A dull silver light emitted from both the tip and his temple and Dumbledore winced as he slowly pulled his wand away. Tom looked in amazement as Albus seemed to extract liquid light from his head and when all of it was focused on just his wand, the man lightly waved it over the basin where it floated like a feather before coalescing with the liquid within.  
Tom’s awe increased as he peered into the liquid and saw the inside of the bookshop Dumbledore had taken him to while they were together in Diagon Alley. He saw Dumbledore talking to a few unknown men and women, peering over their shoulders every few seconds. And then the scene in the pool shifted to the front of a woman in that same group. But over her left shoulder, Tom recognized the boy sitting in a tall-backed, maroon cushioned chair in the far corner of the room. Books stacked on the ground in a precarious tower. His black hair parted and combed over. His eyes darting back and forth like he would never be able to read again. Tom watched his past self reading one of the many books he browsed through on his trip to Flourish and BLotts. The third-person view jarred him so much that he looked up and asked Dumbledore, “Why did you choose this memory?”  
Dumbledore, without looking away from scene playing out in the basin, smiled as he responded, “It was the first time I noticed you enjoying yourself. It is not often we see someone alone enjoying themselves and rarer still to watch someone like you doing so.”  
Tom looked back down into the Pensieve and felt a comfortable, but fleeting, warmth, as he remembered more of their trip. Listening to elderly wizards debate wand cores. Exchanging various magical candies with Dumbledore. Seeing Tula’s eyes snap up at him as he stood in line to buy his books. Her eyes. How much he…  
Albus snapped him out of it as he dissipated the scene in the basin with his many ringed hand, “For you, I think we should start with a more recent memory. They can be quite fickle the farther back you choose, as one’s emotions begin to corrupt your version of events. What do you think would be a good start?”  
Tom’s first thought was the visions he shared with the squid. For the briefest moment, he reveled in the thought of seeing Dumbledore’s face when the man saw he knew yet another of the professor’s secrets. But he thought better of it and instead replied, a fake smile widening by instinct, “I think I have one, sir.”  
Albus peered over his spectacles at Tom just long enough for him to see their characteristic flash as he whispered, “Like your anomalous healing fire, this spell is derived from a different language than the norms taught at this school: Koine Greek. The verbiage of this spell is not one you’d wish to mistake; its consequences are most painful on the mind. Repeat after me, with you wand down.” Dumbledore cleared his throat and uttered the incantation in what sounded to Tom like part of a beautiful song, “μια μνήμη.”  
Tom repeated the incantation twice but Dumbledore held up his hand, pointed to his mouth, and instructed, “Focus on how my teeth and tongue say the nuance, “Mm-yah nee-me.”  
Tom said it in his head before repeating it again and again, focusing especially on copying how his professor’s teeth clenched with the last word and the pitch of its two word song. Dumbledore finally nodded gestured up to Tom’s temple and continued, “Now, place your wand’s tip at your temple. As you say the incantation, focus on the memory you want to show me and slowly pull and rotate your wand backwards, like winding back time on a watch. An ingenious addition, if I may say.”  
Tom focused his mind once again, pulsing the muscles in his jaw a couple times as he clenched his teeth, and brought his wand up to his temple and cast, “μια μνήμη.” The moment his lips said the last part of the incantation, Tom felt a tugging, psychic pain, centered on the point his wand touched his head, that almost broke his concentration. Like his mind had become a taught string as he pulled on one end. But he pushed through the sensation and a second later the pain subsided and he brought his wand down to see a similarly colored, luminescent liquid resting on its tip.  
Albus guided him over and Tom repeated the motion the professor made previously, casting his memory into the Pensieve. The murky liquid cleared after a few seconds and Tom beheld himself sitting in the dimly lit Astronomy classroom, barely staying awake. Albus chuckled before saying, “Lower your face into the pool, as I do, and we shall explore your chosen memory.”  
Tom looked quizzically at Albus, who tied back his long hair with a ribbon he kept in a front pocket of his robes before gingerly dipping his face into the glowing pool. Tom waited a few more seconds before sighing and just before he lowered his head to follow suit, Headmaster Dippet barked from his desk raised platform, “On with it, boy.” Tom cleared his throat, pushed back his bangs, took a deep breath, and plunged his face into the pool. And his body plunged too.  
Slowly and then all at once, Tom felt like he was sinking in the Black Lake again. But just as he thought it, the sensation vanished and he felt the solid stone floor of the back of the Astronomy classroom. As he looked around the dark room, up to the ceiling that followed the stars, he noticed that everything in the memory sounded… off. Like it was going through a filter that both muffled and added reverb to every sound. As he continued searching the room, he found himself and Piper sitting near the middle of the circular room. While Piper absentmindedly doodled onto a piece of parchment flattened against their legs as they leaned back in their chair, the memory version of Tom nodded off to the raspy yet calming voice of Professor Maya al-Atrash detailing the harmonious movement of Saturn’s system of moons.  
Tom left Albus near the entrance to the room and walked toward where his memory self was sitting but stopped short as he heard a pause in the professor’s lecture and turned his attention toward her. Though her mouth moved, she was perfectly still and no sound came out of her for a few seconds before it picked back up, “…and Polydeuces follow a similar orbit around it, influenced by both their trojan and primary of Saturn. Observe…”  
Tom looked around and saw that while he could hear the scrawling of quill to parchment, not one person moved. It irked him as he turned back to Dumbledore and asked, “What’s going on, Albus? Why…”  
Albus chuckled, “One cannot remember what one did not see, Tom. An opportune memory you have chosen, for it shows a flaw in the powers of the pensieve. The Pensieve only shows the limits of the users memory. You did not hear or see all of this lecture, so the Pensieve does not show all of it. You did not see Mualima al-Atrash’s stunning visual model of Saturn’s trojan moon’s orbits, therefore you cannot see them in your memory. The Pensieve is not all-knowing, much to my own personal dismay. Many of my own memories would be far more instructive were my senses less… limited. Perhaps, Tom, resisting the calming sound of your professor’s voice during the lecture would suit you better in the future. Though this shall stay between us. I fear the Headmaster is less forgiving of what he would deem disloyalty. Why did you choose this memory?”  
Tom turned his attention away from the professor, not keen to be stuck in the man’s gaze again, and almost forgot until it came back to him with an audible BANG and a male voice yelled, “FATHER!”  
Both he and his memory self recoiled at the outburst and looked at the source in the back right corner of the domed classroom: a hyperventilating and shaking Tarquin d’Auferio the 4th. Sweat pooled under the boy’s uncharacteristically messy red hair and dripped from his forehead to his already wet desktop. As his blue eyes jolted around the room, meeting the curious gazes of the many students now looking at him, Tarquin hastily stood up and stammered, “S-s-sorry, Mualima. I’ve… I’m sorry.” Tarquin continued to shake as gathered his things, knocking his quill and ink pot to the floor in his rush to leave. Tom moved closer, not noticing his incorporeal form drift through the desks in his path, and watched Tarquin stumble in his attempts to cast a Siphoning Charm on the ink sinking into the stone floor’s cracks.  
Tom looked back to Albus, who silently stood in the same corner they both appeared in, and began, “How do we…” but was cut off by a momentary sickening feeling in his stomach as he felt himself rising out of the pool and lifted his head to see he was back in Headmaster Dippet’s office. After a couple seconds, Albus lifted his head as well and Tom immediately asked him, “What did Tarquin see?”  
Albus, undoing the ribbon and straightening out his hair over his robed shoulders, answered plainly, “This meeting does not concern Mr. d’Auferio, Tom. Nor would I divulge if it were. Having experienced the Pensieve’s effects, are you ready to examine the nightmare from your ride on the Hogwarts Express?”  
Tom resisted the powerful urge to press further, hoping this memory would satiate his curiosity, and instead muttered as he looked back into the slowly fading image of his memory in the Pensieve, “Not particularly.”  
Albus moved forward to put a hand on Tom’s shoulder but halted as Headmaster Dippet interrupted, “I’d prefer to retire to my chambers this century, Riddle. If you are done for the night, leave. Otherwise, show Professor Dumbledore your so-called vision.”  
Tom sneered up at the Headmaster, who was fortunately hidden behind a copy of the Daily Prophet, and looked to Albus as he raised his wand to his temple and inquired, “Shall we?”  
Albus simply nodded and Tom tried once to copy Dumbledore and cast the Memory Extraction spell nonverbally, but failed so he instead chanted it aloud, “μια μνήμη.” The tug of his wand pulling out the memory stung more this time, forcing him to flinch and wince while he did everything he could to focus on the memory of that night on the Hogwarts Express. Finally pulling it free, Tom immediately cast it into the basin and watched it slowly form into his memory, which began just before he fell asleep. Tom didn’t wait for Albus as he once again pushed back his hair, stowed his wand in his robes, and sunk his face into the silvery liquid of the Pensieve.  
Again, his eyes closed only for a moment, he felt the sinking sensation and opened his eyes to see the interior of the Hogwarts Express and the scene unfolding with Lestrange’s gang. While the memory Tom struggled to find comfort against the cold window, the rest of the boys in the compartment loudly talked incoherently. Just as Tom remembered the last thing he saw before the nightmare began, the sight of Artemis winking at him through drooping eyes, Tom sunk again, this time into the environment of the nightmare. Feeling the asphalt-paved road under his feet, he looked around until he found a patient Albus Dumbledore behind him and said, “This is it, Albus.” But his words seemed to fall on deaf ears as Albus took in their surroundings with great interest.  
Just as Tom was about interrupt the man’s thoughts, Albus asserted, “I know this place. I used to live…” He pointed to their right and continued, “Just up that road. But this… This isn’t the road as I know it. This road should be cobble… Interesting… When…”  
A figure cloaked in a fabric so dark that it seemed to engulf the light around it interrupted Professor Dumbledore as it walked through his incorporeal form towards the house Tom knew too well. Without a word, Tom followed the figure until it stopped at the small white gate at the front of the house’s small garden. Curious, Tom took his chance to move in front of the figure as it pulled out the same white wand he saw before. When he peered underneath the hood of the figure’s robes, all he saw was darkness and watched as the figure non-verbally magicked the gate open and glided forward. Tom looked back and saw that Dumbledore still stood transfixed by everything but the house. The children running around in various costumes, comparing what candy they got. The couple holding hands as they waited for a child to hop off the steps of a neighboring house. The streetlights lighting the path up and down the road.  
After impatiently waiting for half a minute, Tom loudly inquired, “Professor?”  
Dumbledore finally looked to Tom and responded, “Apologies, Tom. This place… It is so familiar and yet foreign. And it confirms a theory of mine, but that shall wait. I assume this person is who you perceived these events from?”  
Tom nodded and turned back to follow but hesitated to continue forward. If he showed Albus this memory, there was no way back. Albus would see the Killing Curse. The light. The fear and yet resolve in the red-haired woman’s eyes as that light, it’s sickening green, engulfed her and the room.  
Tom felt Albus’s hand on his shoulder again, felt its warmth even in this unknown space, and shook it off as he followed the hooded figure up to the steps of the house just in time for them to magically blow the front door off its hinges. Walking forward with his eyes to the ground, Tom could again hear the entire nightmare unfold around him again, recognizing each point without having to look up.  
The man yelling for his wife to take the child and run.  
The Killing Curse hitting him in the chest and crumbling to the ground by the stairs.  
The bone chilling laugh of the figure as it stepped over the man’s corpse.  
The sound of the colored television in the other room continuing to play as if nothing occurred.  
The soft cries of the woman trying to bar herself into a room upstairs. The even softer footfalls of the figure climbing the stairs while their too-pale wand hand grazed against the wooden railing.  
Before Tom continued up the stairs, he looked back and saw Dumbledore standing at the entrance to the room the unknown man had come out of. Albus watched whatever played on the TV with intense focus that didn’t break until Tom asked again, softer this time “Professor? I don’t want to be here longer than I have to.”  
Albus nodded and quickly joined Tom at the top of the stairs and they both followed the slow glide of the robed figure as it arrived at its final destination. Once again, the figure nonverbally blew the last door between himself and the woman away and stepped inside. While Albus approached the edge of the room, Tom stayed back and prepared himself to see it again. To see the green light. To hear the woman’s death cry. To hear her corpse helplessly crumble just like her husband’s. And it all came the same way he remembered.  
She begged for the figure’s mercy. Begged for them to take her life and leave the baby boy named Harry. The figure’s voice berate her and demand she move aside. The woman pleading again. The figure saying the incantation to kill her. The flash of green light flooding the room, flooding Tom’s vision despite his eyes being clenched shut to the point of pain. The crash of her body. The crack of her head hitting the table by the crib again. The soft cries of the baby. The slow, determined breaths of the figure. And the final casting of the Killing Curse. The green light overtaking it all before Tom felt his form dragged up and out of the Pensieve as the memory ended. As soon as he saw the dim, magically lit candles of the Headmaster’s Office again, feeling his hands shake uncontrollably fast and heart thundering so hard he felt it in his fingertips, Tom walked out of the room, down the steps of the gargoyle guarded steps, and crumbled to his knees in the dark corridor. Unaware of the single observer at the other end of the hallway.


	13. Solvitur Ambulando

“… but there are plenty o’ other applications for thess charm. It ain’t jus’ the speciality of the current Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes when someone thinks it would be a good idea to be hilarious and sell muggles floor mats that slowly shrink them the longer they stand on them. Nay, the consequences wrought by the truly ruthless can be irreversible. Would anyone like teh give me such an example? No one? How about you, Tom?”

Tom Riddle didn’t answer, for he didn’t hear her. Just like he didn’t hear Tarquin whispering behind him to a fellow Gryffindor about Gryffindor chances in the match against Hufflepuff. Nor did he feel Piper slowly digging the tip of their wand into his back. Regardless of external stimuli, Tom’s mind still wondered in an uncharacteristically blank space. His eyes rarely blinked while gazing out the south facing window of the Charms classroom while doing everything he could to not think about the nightmares that plagued him every night since his last meeting with Professor Dumbledore 6 weeks prior.

“Or perhaps Mr. Riddle is providing his answer in a contemporary art form: a piece called Brainless Boy Stares at Snow,” Professor Corra Whitlocke japed to the light laughter of her students. She continued, “Guess I’ll have teh work on tha’ one. Mr. Riddle, as much as I admire your admiration for the drapes of my classroom windows, I would prefer yeh not give me the…” Whitlocke pulled her wand, a beautiful Rowan with intricately carved dragon scales in the handle, and pointed it at Tom’s right side as she finished, “Cold shoulder.” The moment she said the words, a cone of blue light shot from her wand and hit Tom in the shoulder, immediately thrusting his attention back to the classroom. 

Spikes of frost grew on his right side and shackled his arm to his side. Angrily looking around the room and seeing everyone’s breath become mist, Tom turned his fury to Professor Whitlock, who now sat smirking on a stool while balancing her wand on the top of her left forefinger. Meeting his stare, her smirk widened and she jested again, “Am I worthy of you’re attention now, Riddle? Or are the daggers you’re staring into me eyes a potential danger to thess classroom.”

Tom kept his hate centered on the still smirking Charms Professor for a few seconds before a male voice whispered behind him and hot hair brushed his cheek, “Best not, Riddle.” Tom looked back to see a lightly smiling Tarquin d’Auferio the 4th standing with his wand letting out small waves of hot air at Tom’s shoulder. After a few seconds more and he could finally move his arm around, Tom slowly nodded at Tarquin, who returned it before sitting back down in his chair behind Piper, and turned his attention back to Professor Whitlocke and said, “No, Professor. I was just lost in the snow. Please, repeat the question. I’m here now”

Professor Whitlocke launched her wand off her finger, held out the pocket of her robes, and as soon as it landed inside, she inquired, “Give me an example of how horrible the effects of a memory charm can be.”

Tom pondered for a moment, at first latching onto an idea that might put himself back into the professor’s good graces, but after thinking a little more, he posited, “I suppose seeing someone you love forget you.”

Professor Whitlocke’s right eyebrow raised immediately as she pressed further, “And what does a 12 year old Tom Riddle know of love, pray?”

Tom, his face still and flat as granite, answered candidly and without missing a beat, “Nothing. I’ve never known it. But I can imagine the pain it would cause someone else.”

Professor Whitlocke hopped off her stool, walked over to him, and placed a slightly too firm grasp hand on his shoulder as she exclaimed to the class, “On that note of progress, I shall see you all next week. I expect no less than 16 inches on the theory behind Memory Charms and how they came to be the standard for enforcing the Statute of Secrecy next class. May the winds be kind to you, Mr. d’Auferio, in your match tomorrow. My house shall trample you yet.”

While the rest of the students packed up and left for lunch, Piper lagged behind but Whitlocke waved them away and reassured, “He’ll be jus’ a mo’, Nobel.” Tom briefly watched Piper leave with Tarquin’s left arm draped over their shoulder before looking back to see the Charms Professor wordlessly summon her stool to her outstretched hand, place it near his desk and sit down with her chin in her hands. After a few seconds of mutual silence, she tied her shoulder-length brown hair into a loose knot and stated, “You’re marks are slippin’, Riddle. Even that leather-brained d’Auferio is doing better than you’ve done the last few weeks. Mind tellin’ what I can do teh get your attention, nay, passion back?”

Tom, who had returned to forcing him mind away from his nightmares and to following every piece of the heavy flurry happening beyond the South facing window, answered, “No, professor. I’ll do…”

Professor Whitlocke leaned impossibly far on her somehow balancing on one leg stool and into Tom’s eyeliner as she interrupted, “Tom, it’s fine to be not fine. Male bravado be damned, there is no one here to judge you. If I can…”

Tom shot his dark green eyes to meet her sea green ones and cut her off as he stood and started packing his things, “Respectfully, Professor Whitlocke, I am fine. I’ll bring my marks back up.”

With a swift flourish of her wand, Professor Whitlocke cast, “Colloshoo,” and Tom could move no further. As Tom felt the furious heat rise behind his eyes and he reached for his wand, Whitlocke stopped him at the wrist and advised, “Don’t do that, Tom. This isn’t about your marks. This is about whatever spooked you in Dippet’s office. I’m not privy to…”

Tom wrenched his arm away, cast a General Counter-Spell on his stuck foot, and said uncomfortably close to Whitlocke’s face, “May I leave, Professor, or are you going to give me detention for being hungry? I didn’t eat this morning.”

Professor Whitlocke backed away and sat back down on her stool in an audible huff. After a few seconds of mutual staring, she waved him away and grunted, “Fine, go. Don’t disappoint me with your essay, Riddle. Your vigor is missed.

Without looking back as he rushed out of the classroom, Tom barked, “Yes, Professor,” and slammed the open side of the room’s double doored entrance shut. Hoping to bury his anger and lose himself in a book, Tom instinctually took the correct path to the Library on the first floor in the Grand Staircase: taking a single stair up one floor, waiting for a few seconds, and then hopping onto one coming down from the seventh on its way to the first. Weaving his way through the many students rushing to get their lunch, Tom lightly closed the double doors to the library behind to find it mostly empty. A Hufflepuff boy with his right hand weaved into the resting hand of a Gryffindor girl leaned close to whisper in her ear near the back of the Transfiguration stacks. Two Ravenclaw girls sat at different tables on opposite ends of the main study area. 

Smiling at the back of the head of the one he knew, Tom started walking over to sit with her but the raspy voice of the school’s Librarian cut him off, “How’s the noggin, PC Riddle?”

Tom smirked as he turned to face Madame Fortescue, in her usual place behind the large torus desk and face burrowed into a tome Tom knew better than to ask about, and inquired, “PC, ma’am?”

Raising her head and taking the loupe off her eye to point it at him threateningly, “Pre-cactused, boy, though you call me ma’am again and I’ll see to it your arse gets one the moment you sit in one of my chairs. Or any chair. Imagine the look on your sweetie Tula’s face during another date in the Great Hall and you suddenly sprout a Saguaro. HA!” Both the Ravenclaw girl he didn’t know and the one he did snorted back their laughter and Fortescue continued, “Now answer my question or I’ll enlarge it too.”

Tom strode to her desk, pushing down the blush he felt in his cheeks, and answered as he made a point to lightly set his bag next to him, “Well, if I can’t call you by your title, what do I say? And my head is fine. Better than fine actually. A bit of drowning seems to do the body good.”

Madame Fortescue giggled as she set her loupe aside and closed her tome with a small piece of parchment to keep her place, “I’ll remember to tell Headmaster Dippet that the next time I try suffocating Winky Crockett for using my sanctuary as a personal lab. Last week, the daft-headed boy thought it best to test the flammability of powdered Tentacula Leaves. Brought them in a bin like they were fall trimmings. Nearly burnt down Binns’s precious section on Magic in Ancient China.”

Tom laughed with everyone in the main area and noted, “I’d expect nothing less from Blink. If you have no further threats to me or my arse, I’d like a word with his girlfriend.”

As Tom picked up his things and walked away, Madame Fortescue piped up as she opened her tome back up and reapplied her loupe, “One’s arse can stay only un-cactused for so long Riddle. Your friend Blink knows that well.”

As Tom sat down across from her at a table farthest from the entrance, Isobel Kelly wondered aloud, “It’s getting harder to tell if you’re faking it, Tom. And I’m not sure if that’s a good thing. But I’m glad to see you’re doing swell.”

Tom hesitated while pulling out his gift from Dumbledore and stated, “I’m not hurting anyone, Kelly. What is it with everyone today?”

Isobel cocked her head to the side as she lifted her eyes to meet his, her cleft lip smirking unnervingly, and japed, “Oh, so you’re still under that delusion? Fantastic. I meant what I said, Tom. At least I’m honest about it.”

Tom put the Dumbledore’s spell book, only halfway out, back into the bag and growled as he grabbed his bag to leave, “I don’t need you to…”

As soon as Tom moved to get up, Isobel magically pulled him and his chair further underneath the table, and said, “Oh, cheese it, Tom. I’m only doing this because I care about you. Because Blink and Tulie care about you. You’re not off your trolley yet, or I wouldn’t waste my breath. But you’ve got a foot dangling and Blink likes you too much to tell you to your face. Oswald too, but you know why he can’t do much.”

Tom slouched a little in his chair at their mention and mumbled, “How’s he doing? Ozzy, I mean.”

Isobel turned her attention back to her book and responded, “He’s having a rough go with his OWL studies. We meet here on Sundays. Poor chap wants to be an Auror and I told him I’d help.”

Tom finally brought out Dumbledore’s spell book and browsed the index for a few seconds before questioning, “How’s it going on your end? Is McGonagall still going to take you on?”

Isobel suddenly shot her hand out and grabbed him by the wrist while raising her other pointer finger to her lips and slowly shook her head back and forth twice. When Tom nodded his understanding, she whispered, “Not here, but yes. She said we’re going to the continent right when I graduate.” Isobel cleared her throat and continued at a normal pitch, “Assuming my NEWT scores stay the same, I’m sure I’ll have my pick of department when I graduate.”

Tom flipped through the pages until he found a spell of interest and read as he reasoned, “It’s easier sometimes, Iz.”

Taking a few seconds to answer, pausing in the middle of taking notes with a quill made from a beautiful hawk feather, added, “I know it is. But some people won’t wait for you to find the path out of your maze. Tom?”

Tom raised his eyes to meet Isobel’s, whose worry showed in the slightest droop, and said, “Yes?”

Isobel once again closed her book and leaned forward to whisper, “You don’t have to answer today, but if you don’t tomorrow, I don’t think you’ll like it. What happened in Dippet’s office? Why’d you run out?”

Tom scooted further his chair back, did his best to discreetly shake the memory of the green light out of his head, and answered with a question of his own, “Why does tomorrow matter? I don’t…”

Isobel leaned even further forward and said, reaching out the place her hand over his shaking one, “You’re going to have to let someone in eventually, Tom. It isn’t…”

Tom jerked his hand away, numbing his elbow after hitting the desk behind him, and protested louder than he meant to, “Why were you in that corridor that late? Did you follow me from the… Did she tell…”

Isobel motioned with her hand up and down a couple times and said just above a whisper, “She didn’t say anything. I was with her when Dumbledore asked her to find you. When she didn’t come back to the dorm, I tried to find her at Dippet’s but instead found you shaking like my dad after the war. Whatever it is…”

Tom’s breathing quickened even more and his vision clouded over, nearly sending him to the ground if not for a quick grab of the top of his chair. Tom stammered, between failed attempts to calm his breathing, “It was… nothing… Swear… Not what you…”

Isobel only needed a few seconds of watching sweat pooling on his face and his shaking grasp of the chair barely keeping him up for her to step around the desk and asked over her shoulder as she put his arm over the other, “Where’d you move the those cushions to, Maude?”

Already having been watching their conversation unfold for a minute, Madame Fortescue quickly answered, “Down the Potions aisles, take the 5th left and cross into the star chart stacks. All the way to the back and first left. Take this too.” Tom blearily saw a glass vial appear from nothing and drop into Isobel’s free hand just before she helped him along the aisles of the Potions section of the Library.

Tom’s knees buckled with every numbed step and as they rounded the corner of the massive collection of star charts, he swore, even with his sense dulling by the second and the sound of his own heart drumming in his ears, he heard Isobel mutter, “It’s always the boys with the shock.” Guiding him down the directed path, Isobel finally let go of him and if not for his lack of feeling, he would have recoils against the hard landing into a soft plush chair. Kneeling to pull his head back and open his mouth, he could hear her humming an unknown tune to herself as she uncorked the vial and poured its contents into his mouth. Bitter like marmalade, he winced as he swallowed it down and coughed a couple times before failing to raise his arms high enough to wipe the excess from his lips and groaned. Isobel sighed, muttered something he didn’t understand before pulling the bottom of her robes up and wiped it away of him. 

After a few minutes, Tom felt his body come back to him, his heart calm, and his breathing even out. When he finally had the strength to lift himself up, Tom looked into the worried yet determined eyes of Isobel Kelly and urged, “Iz… Don’t tell Blink. It… It’s never been this bad. I…” Though his memory of them walking through the stacks of the library remained hazy, he asked, “Your dad has… These?”

Isobel, slouching in her own plush chair, sighed and replied, “Yeah. Not just with Blink, though his are less… No, my dad had them… Has them. My mom says he didn’t come back from the war. She’s probably right. His shakes are worse than yours and the Muggle doctors dope him up enough that he forgets who he is. Tom… I don’t care if you talk to me. Or tell me whatever you keep seeing. But I know enough about shell-shock to know you’ve got it. Got it bad. And you’ve got to find someone to tell. Piper. Blink. Tula. Dumbledore. I don’t care. 

“If you don’t talk this out, you’re going to get worse. And that means Blink will tell me. And I will tell Hogbin to take you to St. Mungo’s. What Maude gave you will keep it away for the day. Stay here until you can walk. Maude’ll give you a note to skive the rest of the day. Don’t blow her off tomorrow, Tom.”

As he tried standing, becoming faint halfway through, Tom began, “Who do you mea…”

Isobel left him in his secluded corner of the library, a corner he didn’t know existed but glad for its existence in this moment. Falling in and out of consciousness, Tom didn’t gather his things and leave the that corner until the sun already set and he was the last in the library save for the librarian herself, who was only illuminated by a single, floating ball of yellow light a meter above her head. As she watched him exit the long aisle of Potions shelves, she nodded and held out a sealed envelope. The moment he reached forward and grabbed its edge, she said with her eyes piercing into his, “Your fears are not a weakness, Riddle. Remember that.” Tom slowly nodded back and slipped her note into the left pocket of his robes before turning and continued his sluggish exit of the Hogwarts Library.

Tom did not sleep well that night. Not because his thoughts raced, which for once they didn’t seem to. His brain almost stood still the entire night. But that didn’t stop him from tossing and turning against the general discomfort of his body in the bed. He tried sleeping on top of the covers but every wrinkle felt like a rose’s thorn. He tried turning his pillows over to the cold side, more than once, but by the third cycle, and despite the general chill of the dungeons, his sweat made them both equally uncomfortable. It didn’t matter what he did, so he finally gave up and just did everything he could to remain still until he finally fell asleep an hour later. 

Only to be woken up by the hard prodding of a wand in his back and the grunting of a disheveled Rodulph in his long sleeved pajamas when he finally turned over, “The next time you keep me up all night with your fidgeting, I’m going to Stun you until your brain is as mush as my morning porridge.”

As he closed the curtains to his four-poster and smothered himself back into his pillow, Tom groaned, “The day you stun me, Doof, I’ll personally dig my own grave. And let you put the dirt back over me too.” Even with his entire head displacing his pillow so much it curved up to touch the back of his head, Tom could still tell Rodulph hadn’t moved after a few minutes of silence. Groaning again and re-opening his curtains to find Rodulph standing with his wand in a loose grip facing the stone floor, Tom asked, “If you’re looking for an apol…”

Rodulph muttered just loud enough for Tom to hear as he looked down to his feet, “Why haven’t you said anything?”

Tom looked around the dorm again and saw no one else so he scooted off the front of his bed, sighed, and answered as he took his school uniform, sans robes and tie, out of his trunk and started getting dressed, “You’re gonna have to speak up and be more specific, Doof. I don’t say a lot things. It’s why the professors like me and not you. So please, will you…”

Rodulph grabbed Tom’s wrist just before he buttoned the second from the top of his button down and mumbled a little louder, “ My name’s not…Riddle, why haven’t you told anyone? You’re not…”

Tom looked down at the boy’s hand grabbing him and stated as he finished buttoning with it still attached, “I don’t care.”

Rodulph looked hard into Tom’s eyes and began, “What do you mean you don’t…”

Tom cut him off, “I. Don’t. Care. I have now spelled it out, do I need to spell it into your head too?”

Rodulph let go of Tom’s wrist and asserted, “You could have me expelled for…”

Tom interrupted again, this time meeting his fellow Slytherin’s hard stare, “Yes, I know. Dippet doesn’t come across as the type to be… accepting. And I’m not either. But I also don’t care, Lestrange. I really don’t. You’re not hurting others for fun like Tarquin was and you’re not…”

Rodulph cut him off this time as he loudly closed the lid of Tom’s trunk and sat on it, “We both know you didn’t do that out of chivalry, Tom. You’re more Mordred than Arthur, and you know it. So why haven’t you…”

Tom interrupted him one last time, “Because when I take you down, it’s going to be with my wand, Lestrange. Face to face. Because I am not a coward, unlike you. I did not cover a Gryffindor in dung bombs from a safe distance. I did not organize the entire school to bully said Gryffindor. And I did not cheap-shot him off the side of No Man’s Stair and nearly kill him. You. Did. And I am not you. So, I will not tell anyone about your lovely dips into the waterfall with Apollo. Because it doesn’t matter to me. What matters to me, right now, is you getting off my trunk and leaving me alone for the rest of our years here. Are those conditions acceptable, you craven, sentient pile of hair grease?”

Rodulph, whose face shook as he listened to Tom’s rant and Tom swore he saw his eyes pooling, stood up, and stated as he moved to leave their shared dorm, “When she finds out this side of you, I hope she forgives you, Tom.”

Tom whirled around and yelled up the stairs behind Rodulph’s slow steps, “Who is this person everyone keeps mentioning? And why…”

Rodulph stopped mid-step and chuckled to himself, “As bright as the sun and dull as a moonless night. Good luck, Riddle.” Before Tom could put on his shoes and pursue, Rodulph left the staircase and stepped out of the Slytherin Common Room. Tom went back into the dorm and combed his hair into its usual, wavy at the end, combover from left to right when he looked into his own eyes. For longer than he probably should have, he stared back at himself and felt his heart pound. For nearly a minute, he stood their frozen, waiting, almost wanting, for his eyes to flicker. Just once. He wanted. Begged even. For them to flash red just once so he could at least know his future was set. So he would know for certain that one day, soon even, he would travel to some far village. He would walk up the tall hill up to his father’s mansion looking over the village. And he would kill the man who abandoned both him and his mother.

But they didn’t. Not once. Not even as Tom leaned closer and closer to the mirror between his and Rodulph’s beds did his eyes change even a shade from their dark green. His torpor ended the moment he broke eye contact and looked a little farther down to see the misplaced top three buttons of his shirt. Breaking his own tension with a half-hearted chuckle, Tom re-did the buttons and quickly brushed his teeth before heading up the stairs to the common room. But as he walked through the room to leave, Tom felt his hand twitch involuntarily and looked over to the large glass window separating the Slytherin Common room from the vast depths of the Black Lake. Cocking his head a little, he nodded, said to himself before leaving the room, “Whoever she is, I guess she can wait,” and went back down the stairs to his dorm to put on a Slytherin scarf and sweater.

Weaving his way through the, in his opinion, unnecessarily large crowd of overzealous students wearing either Gryffindor or Hufflepuff themed outfits, Tom eventually escaped the castle and made his way around the lake’s perimeter until he found an out of sight part its beach. Sweating a little as he sat down on a surprisingly comfortable log a few feet from the water’s edge, Tom took off his scarf and laid it down next to him and looked into the middle-distance between himself and the barely visible towers of Hogwarts atop the cliff. 

For nearly an hour, Tom magically levitated and hurled rocks with varying levels of success. Once or twice he tried without a wand, without saying the necessary incantations, without doing either. Failures all. And then an idea struck him. He’d seen the professors do it and he knew the incantation from a book he found on the shelves of the Room of Requirement. Advanced or not, Tom thought, he could do it. How hard could it be?

And so, hopping up to stand on top of the log, balancing himself against its initial wobbles, Tom closed his eyes and focused his mind with his wand outstretched towards the Black Lake. Just bring one back. Only. One. Tom giggled as the image of every rock he sent into lake suddenly coming back at him flashed in his mind. “Focus. It’s all. About. Intent. No complicated wand movements. Easy pronunciation. Affirmative tone,” Tom told himself aloud as he repositioned his feet on the log. 

Tom slowly opened his eyes, visualizing exactly what outcome he wanted, and pushed every other thought out of his mind as he muttered the incantation and snapped his wand towards the lake, “Accio stone.”

Nothing. Not one, not even the rocks at his feet, flinched. Tom relaxed his wand arm and flooded his mind with the image of a stone flying out of the lake and into his hands. Again and again he saw it happen in his mind.

Once more he opened his eyes and, making sure his tone remained calm yet forceful, he cast, “Accio stone!”

When nothing happened again, Tom’s shoulder’s briefly slumped and he hopped off the log. It was obviously ruining his focus. How could be expected to cast a spell far ahead of his grade and balance on a water-worn log? On top of a gravelly beach no less. Tom psyched himself up, shaking his arms loose and stretching his right wrist forward and back. After rinsing and repeating the cycle a couple times, Tom turned his back and just as suddenly turned around and cast the spell again.

Nothing. Pacing around the log, Tom muttered to no one, “You dunce. Of course surprising the rocks wouldn’t work. Only an idiot would…” Tom turned on the spot and yelled, “Accio!” at a small gravel pile near the log. A burst of gravel lightly hit him in the back of the head and Tom threw his wand into the sand and began as he slowly turned around, “I was just about to get it, Piper why do you always… Oh…”

Walking towards him with her hands inside her Ravenclaw cardigan and the bottom half of her face hidden behind a blue and gold Ravenclaw scarf, Tula japed at him, “The look on their face when I tell them you were trying to surprise rocks into obeying you will be well worth the chill from this lake.” Lifting her face just enough for Tom to see her small smile, she continued, “Why are you out here on the coldest day of the month, Tom, and not in the hall drinking cocoa? Have you ever dipped a cane into…”

Tom picked up his wand and put his scarf back around his neck as his body remembered the wind chill cascading at him in waves from the lake and inquired as he sat on the log and faced Tula, “I think the better question is why, again, have you followed me outside the castle?”

Even hidden behind her scarf, Tom saw Tula smirk as she pulled out her wand and cast in an almost sing-song voice, “Accio pebble.” At the sound of it leaving the water, Tom instinctively ducked just in time for a small, smooth stone to streak just over his head and land in Tula’s outstretched, gloved hand. Pulling her scarf down again, Tom blushed a little at the sight of her smile as she laughed, “I thought Whitlocke was lying when she said I was her top student, but maybe you’ve…”

Tula’s smile vanished and her eyes narrowed. Dropping the pebbled and stowing her wand, she walked over to him, stopped in front of him for a moment, and stepped over the log to sit facing the log. For half a minute, Tom and Tula sat in silence, facing opposite directions on the same log, before Tula asked the one question he knew would come the moment he saw her, “What happened at the waterfall, Tom?”

Tom expected his body to react like it did with Dumbledore, Blink, Piper, even Isobel, but it didn’t. His heart didn’t sink. A chill didn’t overcome him. And he didn’t have a green flash. None of it. And that momentarily worried him as he opened his mouth to answer twice before closing it both times. Tula leaned back a little on her side of the log and looked the side of his face and whispered, “Can you speak to snakes?”

This time, Tom’s heart skidded to a halt and he actively fought the instantaneous urge to bolt from the log and into the woods a hundred meters away. Before he could stop himself, Tom muttered, “How much did you see?”

“How long have you known you could do it?” Tula pressed further, inching both her body and face closer to him on the log.

“I don’t… It’s cold can we…”

Tula suddenly, yet gently, pressed her bare palm to his right cheek and gave the slightest recoil before mumbling, “That’s… How are you not… either?” Keeping her hand to his cheek, she asked again, “If you don’t tell me about the snakes, I’m going to put that freezing lake inside your trousers.”

Tom swiped her hand away and again couldn’t stop himself before sneering, “Back off already!” 

Tula stood from the log and started walking away before turning back to beckon him and command, “Come with me.”

Tom, feeling whatever he felt for Tula waning quickly, stood and grunted, “Are you who they were talking about? Because this is not what I…”

Faster than a blink, Tula rounded on him, the tip of her nose touching his and her eyes wide, and stated, “What. Happened. At. The Waterfall. Tom. Riddle?” The clouds of her freezing breath smelled like a heavenly mixture of peppermint and chocolate.

Tom looked into her eyes and felt something not dissimilar to how he felt when Dumbledore looked at him and his eyes strained against the involuntary pressure to stay open as he responded in a truth he could no longer resist, “I wanted to hurt them for humiliating me last term.” Tom’s heart pounded and he felt the sweat pooling in his palms slowly freezing with each wave of chilling wind. 

Tula smiled wide as her eyes reduced in intensity and she noted while taking a small step back from him, “An excellent step forward. In a manner of speaking. Shall we… say… take some more steps forward in both the literal and figurative sense or do you want to just keep watching me from afar and cursing half-naked boys? One chance.”

Tom paused for a moment, trying to hide his hands from the cold inside his trouser pockets, and replied as took a step forward, “It’s different with you.”

Waiting for him to walk on her right, Tula jested as they kept a slow pace, “The cursing, the creeping, or the conversation?”

Tom couldn’t help but chuckle, “The lot? But it isn’t all the time. Just…I don’t know what it is, Tula. I can’t place it. It’s just different.”

After a brief pause while they walked around a small boulder, Tula continued, “How do you tell anyone else the truth? Piper and Professor Dumbledore don’t seem like the kinds of people to take a lie well.”

Tom laughed again as they left the shore for the narrow footpath in the grass, “Definitely not. Your eyes are menacing, no doubt. But they’ve got nothing on Albus. Have you ever seen him look at you like he just… Sees you? You could be using the best Disillusionment Charm in the world and those eyes would still find you.”

Tula, her hands shoved deep into her wool cardigan, giggled and said, “My mother says I have eyes like a Thunderbird, just the wrong color.”

Tom walked a little closer to her to stay on the path and inquired, “Is that a bird from America? I haven’t heard of it.”

Tula’s pitch increased as she skipped forward to walk backwards in front him, “Majestic, magical birds, Tom. Sort of like the phoenix that gave your wand a feather, a thunderbird gave one of its to mine. You should hear the debate on their utility too. My mother once heard one of the Ollivander…”

Tom piped up too as he asked, “Oh which one? I’ve met the whole family.”

“The matron I think. The one who brings in the cores.”

“George? She’s aces! What did she say?”

Tula turned back around the keep pace with Tom, this time on his right, and continued, “She said it all depended on the wood they bonded with. How did she put it… Hold on…” She paused and paced for a a few seconds and clapped her hands as she pressed on and started on the path again, “That’s it. George, you said her name was? She said the cores couldn’t be compared because the woods they are compatible with are completely different. Your Willow an obvious outlier, Phoenix tail feathers mostly like Holly, Maple, and the odd Yew. Thunderbird wing feathers don’t like any of those. I think she said they prefer… they prefer Apple, Redwood, and Cedar. She said something about the wood mattering too, but I don’t fully understand it. Wand-lore so just so… esoteric. I tried reading a bit while my mom worked at her shop, but those ideas might as well be mallards at full height.”

Tom feeling himself blush while hearing her talk and fumbled his jest, “Are there… ahem… Is that a phrase from the colonies? Mallards?”  
Tula pointed as high as she could and said, “I remember being a crumb, as we all are at 5, when my aunt brought me with her to gather supplies for her shop. I couldn’t take my eyes off the clouds and the sky. The nearly full moon coming out mid-day. I never thought anything could fly so high, but there they were. A flock of Mallard ducks going back north for the spring.”

Tom didn’t notice she’d paused in place, holding her open palm up to the sky, but stopped to watch her when he finally did a few seconds later. For just one moment too long, he looked at her with a grin he didn’t know he was wearing, and she looked back at him wearing the same one. And he could have melted. Instead, he did the one thing he shouldn’t have. 

“I’m afraid of telling you more, Tula Wolfe.”

Tula, to his surprise, continued smiling as she came toward him, and joked, “Because you like me and it is different with me? So you’ve said. At least the latter one.”

Tom kept her slow pace around the lake, hands firmly gripping the inside fabric of his pockets, for a few, silent minutes before stopping and confessing, “I have nightmares.”

Tula deviated from the path, beckoning him to follow her as she led them to a two-person bench closer to the forest. Sitting with her knees to her chest, Tom joined her just as she whispered with her wand out and conjured a floating blue ball of flame the size of an ink-pot. Tom felt it’s surprisingly comfortable amount of heat and turned to Tula as she said, “Well, your summer was hell. Those trials… Dumbledore’s more bananas than my aunt said. Anyone would have…”

Tom shook his head and interrupted, “No. I mean, I did have… Look…I don’t want to arse around with this… Not with…”

Tula set a comforting hand on his knee and stated, “Tom… I’m not going to promise you I’ll understand. Or that I’ll stay sitting here if what you say troubles me. Or I won’t convince the squid to give you hypothermia. But for as long as it takes you to tell me the truth, I will stay here. With you. But if you lie. Even once. The squid might as well be a harmless Mallard.”

Tom’s heart raced uncomfortably fast as he saw every flash of green over, and over, and over again just behind his closed eye-lids. But he could feel her hand, now resting on top of his and rubbing it with her thumb. He must be imagining it, but he swore he could feel her heartbeat through that hand. And slowly, second by second, his heart slowed to match hers. Calm. Steady like the tides by the cove he went to with the orphanage. And he finally continued.

“I had one during the second trial for Dumbledore’s Camp, but they started a bit before that. The day I met him, to be exact. And for a while, I had this… Fire. An anger I couldn’t shake towards him. I thought he’d cursed me because of what I’d done at the orphanage. But he didn’t. But I keep having them. I see the same flash of green before I wake up. I saw one the night before my duel with Tarquin. I saw one the day I met Piper. And I saw one just now. When I was just trying to tell you.

“I thought they were something…I thought maybe someone was watching me… Because whenever I wanted to…”

Tula nodded, her eyes kind and reassuring, and Tom resumed, “Whenever I wanted hurt someone, the flash always seemed to appear. Like it was in front of my face. And most the time, it hurts so much I crumble. But I pushed through it when I fought Tarquin and again when you caught me setting those Adders on Rodulph and Apollo at the waterfall. And more than once now… I’ve seen what happens before the flash. Two different events that I can’t… It’s not like I ever… I don’t want to kill anyone, Tula. But… This…”

Tula squeezed harder on his knee and reassured, “I wouldn’t be sitting her if I thought you did, Tom Riddle.”

Using the warmth suddenly growing in his hands and chest as fuel, Tom continued, “Twice now I’ve seen who casts the spell that makes the green flash. The Killing Curse. Both seem to take place in the future. And the only common part… is me. I’m the one casting them. I mean… One I think is me. The other I know is me. Because I saw my own face in the reflection of a mirror after doing it. And both times I woke up feeling something… I can’t explain it, Tula. I just can’t. It’s like the dreams aren’t mine and the feelings aren’t mine. They feel like someone I’m watching is crying and in the worse pain imaginable. But I’m the one feeling it. It… it just doesn’t make sense. And these nightmares… visions keep getting worse. And I can’t tell if it’s because I keep wanting to hurt people. And I can’t stop that either.

Tom felt his chest and shoulders shudder and shake and Tula reached her arm around to pull him closer as she said, “Tom… you may not think this… because I doubt anyone has said it to you… But by seeing this in yourself, you are already healing. I’m not saying you’re cured. You are not one of those poor souls that cannon see their hate for what it is. You…”

Tom leaned further in, his chest resting just under her chin and feeling her warmth, and mumbled, “But what if I become like that? The person I saw in the mirror… Those eyes… They were my eyes.”

Tula looked down to him and whispered, “When you look at yourself, do you want to see that person? To be that person?”

Tom met her eyes, seeing the small tears slowly falling down his cheeks in their reflection, and said, “No… I… No. I don’t.”

Tula smiled, her nose an inch away from his, whispered back to him with a small puff freezing breath, “Then I have hope for you yet,” and kissed him on the forehead. 

A heat far stronger than the hateful flame Tom was used to flooded like a broken dam from the spot down to his toes. One he recognized but couldn’t place in the moment as Tula pulled away and resumed sitting with her knees to her chest. After a few seconds of silence, save for the squawking of a bird in the forest behind them, Tula said, “Let Dumbledore in. Until you’re fixed, he won’t pay attention to the rest of us,” and left him sitting on the bench facing the Black Lake.


End file.
